


Blinding Lights

by Dangerous_Advantage



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Hip hop/Dance AU, Aaron learns to get his shit together (with the help of his girlfriend of course), Andrew does art sometimes, Andrew is suprisingly good with kids, Andrew reads a lot too, Angst, Anxiety, But there will be fluff too I swear, Canon-Typical Major Character Death, Canon-Typical Warnings, Depression, I'll have to explain it all won't I, Major Character Injury, Multi, Multilingual Neil, Mutual Pining (eventually), Neil escapes through dancing/running, Neil slowly learns to trust again, Nicky is really bad at teaching, Panic Attacks, Possessive Andrew, Post-College AU, References to Homophobia/Homophobic Remarks, So is Neil but he tries his best, Stupid teambuilding games, Swearing, The foxes all have different styles and strengths, a lot of drinking, and a smartass, i'm looking at you Kevin, idk I'll figure it out, just so much angst I'm sorry, lots of different styles of dance, lots of drunk midnight discussions, mentions of past abuse/trauma, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts, neil is oblivious, oh yeah there will be drinking, probably will add more tags as we go along, slow-burn, this kinda has a plot but honestly not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerous_Advantage/pseuds/Dangerous_Advantage
Summary: Neil has been running since he was ten. He's been alone since he was 17. The only thing he's has to reconcile himself with is the fact that when he's sitting in his new apartment, he can pretend everything is normal. He can pretend that he will have a normal life and a normal job and wear ties to work sometimes and learn new languages every few months. He will not, however, actually have this. All he will ever really have is the knowledge that he will always have to keep running until he runs himself right into a brick wall and ends up dead in a ditch. Until then, however, he's finding ways to make life more enjoyable... like doing exactly what he told himself he'd never do again, what he promised his mother he'd never do again. Dance.Basically, my take on a Hip Hop/Dance AFTG AU. I've been dancing for about three (?)  straight years now, having done ballroom for almost two years and Hip Hop for another, and have scattered experience in other types of dance (i.e. ballet, contemporary, jazz, tap, etc.) and I just couldn't get this fic out of my head. I'll try to explain the dancing as much as I can, but please bear with me.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	1. Running is a Victory

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is my first fic on this site and I'm honestly not sure what I think about it. This is highly experimental and I don't know if I should continue writing this or? I hope to get the next chapter out really quickly so we can get into the action but yeah. Be warned, there are TWs everywhere. In this chapter, there are mentions of suicidal thoughts and past abuse/trauma, so stay safe. If I ever miss any TWs, please don't hesitate to tell me! 
> 
> Also, please forgive me for all the song puns in the chapter titles. I stole this one from 'Run, Boy, Run,' by Woodkid.

_"Run, boy, run! This world is not made for you,_

_Run, boy, run! They're trying to catch you,_

_Run, boy, run! Running is a victory,_

_Run, boy, run! Beauty lays behind the hills."_

_-Run, Boy, Run_ by Woodkid

It was one of those nights in which Neil found himself gazing off into the distance from his apartment window, his book on how to speak Italian, the newest language he was picking up, lying forgotten on his sheets. The cool spring breeze from his open window played games with his hair, the smell of rain still fresh on the wind. It smelled so unlike the small city of Palmetto, that if Neil closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was elsewhere. Far away from this town, in another one, on the opposite side of the country. The sun setting as his mother’s shaking hands turned the steering wheel of the car onto a California beach, her eyes steely with a stubborn determination that had never let her down before. Neil hadn't known what was about to come, didn't understand that everything was breaking, fracturing in his very hands. Everything would be different after that and Neil didn't even realize until it was too late. The memory was painful to endure and brought up thoughts of horror and confusion, the salty air tainted with the smell of gasoline, the need to cry stifled by a strange, empty feeling. Neil knew that when his mother had died, so had something else, an emotion he couldn't quite place. He refused to think too deeply about it, instead, turning his head away from the window and shutting it resolutely. 

There were other instances, too, where the rain and the sea salt had bonded together to remind him of more memories, some that were hazy enough almost to be forgotten. The smell of fresh peaches from a vendor on the side of the road reminding him of those rushed visits to the market, with a few dollars and the instructions telling him to buy only what they needed. The feeling of dust settling on him reminding him of the few times they had been forced to sleep outside, taking turns keeping watch as the other one slept, supported by each other's shoulders. The smell of apple cider reminding him of Christmases for show. Everywhere he went, there were reminders. Long road trips, sleepless nights, a mantra repeating in his head, stuck there for eternity. _Run. Never stop running._

But Neil had slowed, after a while. He didn’t stop, no, he could never stop. He simply let some of the urgency fall away, staying in some places longer than he ever had before and taking it in. It wasn’t that he meant to, it simply became too hard to keep running quite so far and so fast. He enrolled in a college, then switched over to a new one every year, earning his bachelor’s degree in only three years due to some other opportunities he had managed to exploit. Now, a month after earning a degree in Foreign Languages, here he was, sitting in his new apartment, something he had managed to lease with his newest identity- Neil Josten. If his mother knew, he wondered what she would do. She would have discouraged him from going to college in the first place, he decided. Maybe, she would never have even let him. In fact, it was likely that she would take beat him just for the very suggestion. She probably would have told him that it wasn’t safe, and a waste of his time and money. She might have reminded him that she could pull some strings and get him a fake degree in whatever he wanted. That was all dependent on him breaching the subject in the first place. Who knew where he would be right now if his mother was still alive. Probably dead in a ditch somewhere, killed by his fathers' lackeys for his disobedience. The thought of college would never have appealed to _that_ Neil, he decided. 

It was a wonder that Neil was even alive right now at all. Neil got the feeling that somewhere along the line, he had cheated death. he couldn't pinpoint the exact spot in his life where that might have happened- perhaps it was the night that he and his mother had left in the first place. There was no real reason that he had survived up until this point, perhaps besides luck (though, he was sure most of his luck was bad.) What had possessed him to go to college in the first place, he wasn't sure.

Yet, he had done it anyway, against his better judgment, and he was still alive. Sure, he had experienced some close calls- images of him ending up on the internet when an idiot freshman had decided that everybody had to know how _attractive_ Joel Harley was, causing him to have an almost panic-attack, regardless of the fact that his hair had been dark brown and his eyes green. A few times when his roommate who studied criminology had told him of the infamous ‘Butcher of Baltimore,’ and his missing wife and son, and Neil had to force himself to not move dorms or else it might seem suspicious (though, in retrospect, he didn’t think his roommate would have made that connection.) Once or twice when people in black suits came to visit the school, and Neil had spent the entirety of those days hiding in the bookstore across town, terrified of the fact that they just might be looking for him.

Yet, here Neil was, with a new name, in a new city. Some things never changed, did they? Neil couldn’t help but wonder if this was what the rest of his life would be like. His career gave him a chance to be flexible in where he lived, but it would be harder, now that he was quickly running out of money. He had spent quite a lot of it on his college education, and now he was starting to see the real risks that going to college posed for him. He needed a job, that much was apparent, but he wasn’t really sure where to start if he was being completely honest with himself. Getting a job had always been the last thing on his mind when he was on the run, and now, he didn’t really have any clue of how to do it. Well, he knew how to do it, in theory. He just wasn’t sure he could pull it off. The process seemed long and tedious, and the fact that he would be interacting with others, putting himself in their minds' eye made his stomach do flips. It had been hard enough warding off relationships in college, could he really do it in the so-called 'adult' world? 

Neil decided to banish the thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to think about that right now. In fact, Neil suddenly didn’t want to think about anything. He sighed, knowing his Italian would have to wait, and stood up, readying himself for a run. The urge to escape was always there, always a part of him, so he might as well indulge in it a little bit.

/~/

Neil let himself get lost in the repetitive feeling of his feet hitting the ground, propelling himself forward with every step. Though Neil had always been short, he was also fast. He found himself breezing through the winding streets, alternating between jogging and sprinting until he found a pace that he was comfortable with, but was still fast enough to keep him from getting bored. Running was one of the few means of freedom from his own mind, something that he had always been done. Something he was encouraged to do.

Even though his mother was long gone, old habits died hard. He found it difficult to do anything that his mother wouldn’t have approved of, and sometimes, he could still hear her voice in his head, berating him for stupid mistakes. His eyes always located every single exit of a building he was in, always watching others and determining whether it was safe or if he should get out as soon as possible. He found himself living by the bare minimum without meaning to, buying only what he needed to survive, never really branching out. He didn’t celebrate holidays, except sometimes on Christmas, where he would go out to a cafe and get some hot chocolate with marshmallows and stick a single candy cane into the mix. It was a bittersweet reminder of Christmases past, a reminder of the few times when his mother had actually spoiled him by buying him things that he didn’t need to survive- a book, a notebook and pen, a candy bar if he was lucky. 

At a certain street corner, Neil slowed, bending over as he breathed hard. His legs shook a little bit, and as he looked up, he realized that he had only minutes until the sun fully set. His mouth pressed into a frown. He should get back, but the need to run until he forgot everything that had ever happened to him was stronger. With a groan, he started again, racing into the darkening night. He could take care of himself.

He whizzed through alleyways and jogged across roads, the glow of the streetlights sudden and startling as it bounced off the still-wet pavement, making some sections of it look as if it was made of glass. Time seemed to stretch out around him, the sky illuminated by lights, making it look strangely muggy. In this place, there was nothing but the sound of his footsteps and heavy breaths. Neil had never really thought about it, but the sight of the darkening streets aglow with the warm brilliance of the streetlamps was beautiful, in a roundabout kind of way.

Neil finally began to slow his pace, the exhaustion of a long day starting to set in. He hadn’t been out for much more than an hour, but his day had been lengthy and exacting, and his feet still hurt from the day before, when he had been so plagued by thoughts that he spent most of his morning sprinting through the city streets, only stopping when he bent over and retched, dry-heaving until there was nothing left inside of him and he was numb and hollow.

It was hard to think about all of this. Hard to start getting to the ‘whys’ and ‘what ifs.’ Usually, they all lead down to the same path- one that he knew it would be stupid to even think about going down, even though he thought it would be stupider to live this pained, lonely life. He had been running from his father since he was ten, and now, he was turning 22 soon. Twelve years of running. When would it be enough? Would his father always continue to hunt him? Would he never be safe? He had never let himself entertain the thought of a nice warm house with a cat or something and a sustainable job. But now that he was here, that was all he really wanted- to be able to live freely.

But he never could. He would always be plagued by nightmares of the past and he would never be able to feel safe. It would be a game of, ‘move, disappear, change faces, move again.’ An endless cycle of running.

Neil found himself sitting on a bench, holding his arms close to himself, his eyes already scanning the street around him, and determining that it was a safe enough place to sit. Exhaustion found him, and he blinked slowly, eyelids heavy. He didn’t want to fall asleep here, but his feet and legs still ached, and he didn’t want to put forth any more effort at the moment. In the strange stillness of that particular street corner, the thoughts that Neil had been running away from caught up to him. Most of them were memories, shoved back into his mind and compartmentalized, now creeping to the surface like spiky vines, twisting into his mind and never letting go. Thoughts of his father, his cruel hands and icy blue eyes, as well as ones of his mother, with her steely eyes and cool demeanor, mixed and swayed, hazy under the light of the streetlamps. Everything was hazy here, and it all seemed very breakable like he could just drop the memories and watch them shatter against the pavement. It took him a long time to even think about these memories without having a full-blown panic attack, and even now, he still struggled. He knew he would never really get better. He didn’t have time to get better. He just had to keep going. His mother had sacrificed herself for this, so of course, he wouldn’t stop. He would never stop. He _could_ never stop.

But, somewhere, deep in his mind, he wanted to. He wanted it all to end in a sudden screeching halt. It wouldn’t be hard, either. Neil knew how to kill a person. What did it matter if that person was himself?

A violent shudder suddenly rippled up his spine and he drew in a short breath. No. This was the train of thought that it was dangerous to go down, too dangerous for him. Neil stood and shook himself out as if to rid the thought from his mind. But the pesky thing planted itself into his brain and wouldn’t let go. Sagging a little, Neil began to walk home.

Maybe if he didn’t feel so empty all the time now, or so lonely, it would be easier to forget the thought. As it stood, however, having friends of any type was a bad idea. Real relationships could never be forged because he could never be himself around other people. He wasn't even sure he knew who he was anymore, it was all so distorted from years of different personalities and faces. He could never love someone, not only because it was dangerous, but because he didn't think he knew how to. It was another one of his mothers’ rules, never leave yourself open and vulnerable in that way to anyone. When he was younger, he had kissed a few girls, just to see what it was like. His mother had known, of course, and she’d beaten whatever curiosity and interest that was in him to a pulp. After that, he had never even dared to admire others, no matter how beautiful or breathtaking they were. That was another luxury that he could not afford.

He had never really desired a romantic relationship, anyways. Maybe he had wondered what it would be like, from time to time, to give himself over fully to another so that they could peel back his skin and see all the secrets hidden inside of him. But the more he thought about it, the more he knew it was impossible. Even if he had wanted to love somebody, what reason would they have to return said love? He was a mess, after all. He didn't even know what a father was supposed to be like, nor a husband. Those ideas were mangled in his mind, destroyed by his own childhood. He tried to imagine himself with a happy family, a few kids, and a wife, yet he just couldn't. It was hard enough looking into a mirror, thinking about the word 'childhood' sent an excess of images into his mind that he would rather not think about just then.

Neil sighed, frowning before his eyes suddenly fell on an all-too-familiar sight. It was a boxy building, quite large, with a few sets of doors and a sign that loudly proclaimed, _“The Foxhole Court,”_ with smaller letters under it, explaining its use as a dance studio, as well as some of the dance disciplines that the teachers knew. Neil had to stop and stare, his heart withering a little in his chest as he did so.

Here was another thing he was forbidden from doing- dancing. Neil had always loved to dance before they had left, and it was one of the only reprieves from his father that he had gotten as a child. He remembered the feeling of letting himself fall into the music, forgetting everything else completely as he swung and jumped and bounced, the music carrying him like a raft bobbing in an ocean of uncertainty. He never knew why he was allowed to dance, even encouraged to, when he was younger. His father didn't really seem like the type of person who would encourage dancing.

But maybe it had to do with that day, hazy and dreamlike in his memory, when everything had changed. When his mother and father lead him to a little studio, with lots of other people around and he had danced for them, small and agile. After, he had met two others- Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama, Kevin being about his age and Riko a little bit older. They had chatted, Neil careful to avoid any details about himself, just happy to be sitting with two other dancers. Then they danced for each other. Riko was called away sometime during the visit, and Kevin had shown Neil some break-dancing moves that it took Neil a little bit to get, but had been fun to learn. It was a surprisingly good day, up until the point where he had been brought away to that strange, black room and seen the bloody sight of a man being dismantled by his father. Kevin had watched, too. Only days after, his mother had pulled him out of bed, tossed him a duffle bag, and told him to shut up and follow her.

Ever since then, Neil had continued to dance and improve his skills- in secret, of course. He had never been very good at lying to his mother, but it was easy to use the excuse that he had gone out for a short run. His mother always chastised him for not being careful anyway, but she never beat him for it, unless it caused a rift in their schedule. To Neil, dancing was the only time when he felt he could be real. You couldn’t fake your own dance style, and when Neil danced, he left all of his inhibitions and dirty secrets behind him. It was even better than running; Neil let the music take him and sweep through his body, until he could only feel the rapid beat of his pulse, pounding in time to the music.

Neil thought dancing was kind of like flying. It made him feel free when everything else in his life suggested that he was trapped. Even just thinking about it calmed him.

At the moment, Neil couldn’t remember the last time he danced. Neil couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the beautiful structure in front of him, the memories it brought back both alarming and calming. When his mother had died, she had made Neil promise to never stop running, instilling in him the eternal mantra of _“Don’t look back, don’t think twice and don't be stupid.”_ On that day, Neil had sworn to her that he would do everything in his power to keep himself safe, to make it so that her sacrifice wasn’t in vain. To him, it had included giving up dancing. She had always discouraged him from doing so, even if he had never really understood why, and Neil was sure there was a reason for that. Besides a few times where he found himself unwittingly bopping to a beat, Neil hadn’t. Now, looking at the dance studio, he ached, just a little bit. He wondered if he had lost all of his skills in dance in the years that had followed his silent promise, and acknowledged that he would never really know. Life was hard, and his mother was a testament to that fact. He chose to believe her council and started jogging away from the street corner towards his tiny new apartment, feeling strangely empty.


	2. Show You What I Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil has a bad morning, then goes out looking for job opportunities. He does stumble upon one without meaning to, of course, even though he never planned on participating in a dance battle. Nor did he anticipate winning said battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Whoo! Okay but real talk the beginning of this and then a little bit at the end is kinda dark. If you want to skip the beginning, just go to where the asterisks end. Don't worry, it's not relevant to the plot. as for the one at the end of the chapter, it's pretty easy to see where it starts, so you can just skip the entire thing lol. 
> 
> Here are the TWs for this chapter (tell me if you think I missed any): Abuse/blood, mentions of past trauma, panic attack, vomiting.

_"Turn up, baby, turn up, when I turn it on,_

_You know how I get too lit when I turn it on,_

_Can't handle my behavior when I turn it on,_

_Too fast, never ask, if the life don't last,_

_Done been through it all."_

_-Roses_ (Imanbek Remix) _by SAINt JHN_

********

The smell of gasoline was in the air, heavy and smelling of regret. Neil stood, his back to the horizon, as he poured gasoline over the seats of a familiar car, keeping his eyes low. He stepped back, the carton of gasoline seeming to never run out and set it on the ground, before pulling out a match. It lit, bright and flickering in his palm, and Neil found he couldn’t look away as he tossed it onto the car. The effect was immediate, fire lighting up the car instantaneously, hungrily crawling over the seats. Neil watched, noticing how it began to creep towards him but did not move. The flames surrounding him, licking their way up his legs and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

When he opened them, he was somewhere else, his body taut like a string. His arms and hands were tied up behind his head and he felt the rustle of cloth above his eyes- a blindfold. Panic began to make its way down his spine, and he whimpered, the effects of the last dream beginning to wash over him. He was laying in his bed, blindfolded. Oh, god, they had found him, hadn’t they? Of course, they had. How could Neil have deluded himself into thinking he was safe? He would never be safe. 

There was the sound of someone giggling and his skin went cold as ice.  _ “Junior,”  _ the voice whispered to him.  _ “I found you, Junior.” _

Fear rippled over him in waves. Neil struggled hard against his ties, a gasp of terror slipping from his throat as he felt a hand push the blindfold away. Neil blinked, shaking, as his worst nightmare unfolded right in front of his eyes. 

_ “Oh, Junior,”  _ crooned Lola, her eyes shining with malice,  _ “you didn’t think you’d be able to hide from us forever, did you?”  _

Neil’s body clenched in paralyzing fear. They were here. She was here. He was going to be taken back to his father. No. God, no. 

_ “Your father is waiting, Junior,”  _ Lola said, opening her mouth into a grin that showed a set of sharp teeth.  _ “He said he wanted you in one piece, but he didn’t give any other specifications, I’m afraid.”  _ She clucked her tongue.  _ “I get to have you all for myself, just for a little while.”  _

Neil tried desperately to sit up, but he felt so heavy and his head ached. He tried to speak, but it was as if he had forgotten how. Lola let out that horrible little laugh of hers again pulled out a knife and reached forward.  _ “This will be fun…”  _

The feeling of a knife cutting into him was intimately familiar. Neil screamed, jerking backward, and throwing up his arms, finding that they were suddenly untied. He slammed his body back against the window, gasping for air as his eyes opened. The light of the room was sudden and unforgiving, but he found that his apartment was empty. 

**********

It was a nightmare. He was alive. 

Neil shuddered, chills working their way up his spine, and fell back onto his bed, his mind replaying the nightmare over and over again. He was too worked up to sink back into the blissful reverie on unconsciousness, so he got up instead, shaking himself out. His body alternated from feeling too hot and then too cold. It was going to be one of those days, wasn’t it?

Neil forced himself to take a few bites of breakfast, before taking a cold shower in an attempt to shake the last remaining dregs of horror from his mind. The shower served only to wash the clammy sweat away from his body, for which he was thankful, but the nightmare stayed, stuck in his mind, Lola's words tormenting him from the inside. After, he found himself sitting on the couch, unmoving. He wasn’t sure what to do today- yesterday he had finished the last of his packing, which wasn’t much, seeing as his possessions were meager. He supposed he should look for some sort of job, but he didn’t have a phone, nor did he have access to the internet. He knew there were newspapers that advertised different jobs and decided to start there. There might be some at his local shopping center, so he pulled on some running shoes, a pair of baggy sweats and an old, worn t-shirt, and headed out, shoving an old beanie on his head after a moment of consideration. He checked his reflection in the mirror at the last second and was startled to see that his eyes were bright blue. 

After a moment of fear, Neil let out some rough cursing as he turned to grab a pair of brown contacts from his bag. In his haste to get up, it seemed he had completely forgotten to put in his contacts, something he did every morning right before he got out of bed. Neil Josten had black hair and brown eyes, something he had decided when he moved in. He hadn’t let himself see his true eye color, his  _ fathers’  _ eye color, for as long as he could remember. Mentally reprimanding himself for his forgetfulness, he put in his contacts and did another once-over, just in case he had forgotten anything. After deciding that he was ready, Neil swept out of the door and began his way towards the nearest grocery store. 

The walk was pretty short, seeing as it was only a few blocks away, and he was rewarded by finding free newspapers full of advertisements for different jobs and companies. Neil picked one up and began his way home, thumbing casually through the newspaper as he went. There were all types of different job offerings, and Neil felt slightly overwhelmed. Certainly, there were a lot of options, but Neil wondered if there were any that would fit his degree. He had looked at his options online but had never really made a decision. When graduation had rolled around, the only thing he knew was that he might want to become something that had to do with being a translator, which was a very broad and uncertain conclusion to come to. 

Neil finally gave up on the newspaper approach, as most of the jobs were meant for highschoolers and college kids. As far as he knew, there was a library near here, with computers free to the public.  Neil decided that he might as well continue his research there, seeing as it would probably be easier than this, even though he didn’t really want to be around other people right now. His nightmare had left him jumpy and feeling like absolute shit, but he still had things to get done, regardless. 

Neil started his way towards the direction of the library, folding and shoving the newspaper into his pocket and eyeing the streets nervously. It was still early enough that not many people were out, and for that he was grateful. He broke out into a jog when he was about halfway there and arrived at the large building before people had really started to come out of their houses. 

The library had just opened for the day, and its staff was a mix of restless and tired. Neil approached one and asked directions to the computers, with which he was rewarded a tired hand wave and a set of terse directions. Neil followed them to a small section with a few lines of computers, choosing the one with the best vantage point before settling down and starting his search.

  
  


About four hours later, after doing enough research to know what jobs he should be looking for yet finding none of the said jobs in his area, Neil let his head fall to the desk, groaning. The library was beginning to bustle with activity and the clock on his computer read 12:30 AM. His search was continuing to be fruitless, it seemed. Neil contemplated pulling out the newspaper and just signing with a lawn mowing agency before pushing the idea from his mind. He didn’t exactly know  _ how  _ to be a regular person and work like a regular person. In fact, he didn’t know how to at all. 

He hadn’t run out of funds yet, so he still had some time. Neil sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly and stood. Looking for a job could wait for tomorrow- at the moment, Neil just wanted to go home and crawl under his covers and hide from the world for a little bit longer. He didn’t really want to run or to read, or to eat, or to do anything at all, yet his body still begged him to do  _ something.  _ Neil was getting this feeling a lot, nowadays. 

There were quite a few more people here than there were earlier this morning. Neil felt his paranoia kick in as he observed each and every one of them, quickly memorizing their faces and clothing before moving on. It was instinctual. Neil was honestly too tired to care anymore, but his body was conditioned this way from years on the run, whispered suggestions and reminders from his mother, beatings when he didn’t follow through.  _ Do it right, or you’ll end up dead,  _ his mother had always told him. It was one of many lessons learned from her, lessons he couldn’t quite let go of. 

Neil pushed the thoughts from his mind as he began his way home. Not for the first time, he wished he had a car. Not that he needed one; Neil could go most places in this town on foot and, if he really needed, had skills in the hitch-hiking department. He didn’t plan on going very far, but the idea of a vehicle that he could use to get away fast, one that was his very own, was enticing . The faux feeling of freedom that being behind the wheel brought to him was addicting, in a different way than running, or even dancing, was. It opened up possibilities and ideas, things that he was not allowed to even think of. 

A car would be too much maintenance anyways. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t afford any spendy purchases right now. It was a nice fantasy, though. 

Neil felt himself going over his other options without realizing it. When his mother had died, she had left him a binder full of resources, one of which being a coded message which had his Uncle Stuarts’ phone number on it. His uncle had reached out to him once or twice after his mother had died through others, reminding him that if he wanted, he had a safe place in England, but Neil had never taken him up on the offer. It was tempting now, to think of being swallowed up into the English Mafia, hidden away from his father and his fathers’ lackeys for good. But joining his uncle would mean taking a permanent spot in the mafia, and Neil didn’t want to be caught up in something that he couldn’t get away from. It just didn’t feel right. Sighing, Neil pushed the thought away, feeling strangely lost. 

Rounding a few more street corners, Neil suddenly found himself facing a small crowd of people, murmuring to each other and letting out the occasional excited  _ ‘ooh’  _ or  _ ‘woah.’  _ Neil wasn’t curious by nature, knowing the danger that curiosity posed, but he couldn’t help but slow down to observe the crowd. They were circled around something, with music blaring loudly and abrasively. There was something strangely exciting about the pulsing of the beat, the way that people would gasp and crowd even closer every once in a while. 

Neil stopped, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as he watched in interest. He was not a fan of crowds, despite the cover they could provide, because it would provide other people cover, too, people who would easily sneak up on him and whisk him away before he could even cry for help. He felt it would be a stupid idea to go forward, to see what was going on. His mother would tell him it was a stupid idea. Yeah, it was a stupid idea. 

Yet, suddenly, from within the crowd of people, a voice called out, “Alright! Still undefeated! Looks like this $100 Amazon Gift Card is still mine!”

Somebody from the crowd groaned, and another voice called, “You’re just too good, Dan! Nobody here is a good enough dancer to beat you. Except me, of course.” There was a chorus of laughter and Neil finally took in the situation. It seemed like a dance battle was taking place, a battle boasting a reward. 

Neil stood, frozen, for a moment, before he began walking forward. He would just go and watch, see if any others were willing to dance. It would be a good show. That was all. It was okay to just watch, wasn’t it? 

A few people in the crowd withdrew out of his way as Neil slipped quietly through the clump of people to the middle, where the music was the loudest. There was a group of three people in the middle, two passing out fliers and one holding a microphone. The one holding the microphone, the one that Neil assumed was Dan, was grinning wildly at the crowd, her short brown hair frizzy and her skin shining with sweat. She passed her eyes over the crowd and laughed loudly, her mouth quirking up at the corners. She seemed so happy.

One of the two passing out fliers, one with skin as dark as Dans’ and hair meticulously gelled up into spikes, grinned at the crowd and leaned over to whisper something into Dans’ ear. Dan gasped theatrically and said, “Oh ho ho! Matt’s challenging the people of the crowd to a dance battle. Anyone who can best him gets this $100 gift card, apparently. He’s not as good as me, though, so you should have an easier time.”

Matt gave Dan a scandalized look, but he was still grinning widely. Neil felt the crowd go restless around him as they murmured excitedly to each other. Matt handed Dan the stack of fliers and walked away from them, pushing the crowd back with a wave of his hand. 

“Anyone want to battle?” Matt asked playfully. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” The crowd murmured, and Neil pushed closer to the front without realizing it. Matt’s eyes flashed to him and his grin seemed to widen even more if it was even possible. 

“Hey, you!” he called out. “Yeah, you. The one in the oversized hoodie who looks like an oldie b-boy without the knee and elbow pads. You look eager. Wanna give it a try?”

It took Neil a moment to realize that Matt was referring to him. His eyes widened in surprise and he stepped back without meaning to. Shit. This wasn’t good. It seemed he had been noticed. 

Before Neil could make a hasty retreat, he was momentarily distracted by one of the other two- the other boy with brown hair and tanned skin, wearing an orange baseball cap on his head that looked as if it was only moments from tumbling off of his head. “You’re never gonna get anyone to dance, you idiots. They’re all pussies.” 

Matt snorted, but he still stepped forward hopefully. “Come on, kid! Just one battle. I’ll go easy on you.” 

Neil was about to turn and disappear into the crowd when he suddenly felt someone behind him shove a hand into his back, sending him stumbling out of the crowd and into the circle. There was an excited cry from the group and Neil tried desperately to reorient himself before he fell over, taking a step back before the song changed suddenly and Matt let out a whoop of excitement. “Yeah! See, Seth? This kid’s got guts.”

“Someone obviously pushed him, dumbass,” snapped the other boy, Seth, in retaliation. Matt laughed again, ignoring the barbed comment, and Neil took another step back, even though he  had a feeling that it was too late to turn and disappear into the crowd. The new song was loud and fast, it’s beat thrumming through the pavement as Dan yelled something intelligible at Matt, who laughed, offering the microphone back to her as she got closer. 

“All right, all right!” Dan called. “We have a challenger. To keep this short, you’ll both have one round to dance for each other. You know how this works- either of you can go first, it just depends on which one gets going faster. Dance your little heart out, then when I count down from five, back off and let your opponent take a turn. After, I’ll be the judge. Good luck.”

Neil suddenly realized that he was still standing here, paralyzed and unsure, and Matt was advancing. He knew how to battle. He’d done mock battles before when he was allowed to dance, and he’d seen plenty more in his years as a teen, sneaking around and watching them take place at a few different dance studios from behind the viewing window, eyes wide with excitement. It had been a long time, though, and he was unsure of his abilities. He couldn’t believe that he had let himself end up in this situation in the first place, with everyone's eyes on him, his face scored into their memory. Neil swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat. Shit. He had to get out of here. Yet, for whatever reason, his feet were glued to the spot and his eyes wouldn’t leave Matt, who was now standing only a few in front of him. 

Matt bobbed to the beat for a moment, following the music with a few simple steps, before branching out into a combo of quick steps and a slide backward, followed by a quick twirl and then a set of smooth, robotic motions, accented by simple body roles and chest pops. It was clear that his style was mostly focused on popping, as well as the occasional bout of ticking or, if the music suggested it, strobing. 

At a certain point in the music, where the beat sped up ever slightly, he used the illusion of weight changes to make it look as if he was grabbing and pulling on a rope to slide his feet across the pavement. Neil was a little bit impressed, sliding and things to do with a lot of weight changes were difficult on rougher ground. 

Matt seemed to recognize that his turn was almost up before Dan did. He did a set of quick changes, popping and locking with his arms, and backing up ever slightly. Dan began to speak into the microphone- “Five… four…. three….” As each number was spoken, Matt backed up more, hitting each count with a different move, wide smirk on his face. Then, Dan reached one and Neil was moving.

Neil hadn’t been sure what he was going to do if he got to this point, but now it didn’t seem to matter. He would dance, of course. There was no other alternative. 

Neil pressed forward, moving to the fast beat, alternating between hitting on certain beats, the bass, and quick sets of words that the singer spat out. When the song got quieter, he would follow it and get slower, when it got louder, with a better beat underneath, he would speed up. 

Neil hadn’t danced for a while, but it didn’t seem to matter. His body moved without him really thinking about it, hitting combos unpredictably and trying not to use the same move more than once. He found himself migrating into a breaking style, shuffling to the best of his ability and using top-rock, moving certain parts of his body before moving others in quick, smooth motions with little warning that he was about to do so. He went through an inventory of different moves as he went, wondering why he had ever been worried about this. Right here, with his heart pumping to the beat of the song, he was safe. 

Neil hit a certain combo that looked much more difficult than it actually was, and earned an excited gasp from the crowd. Matt, who had obviously not expected him to be any sort of competent dancer, looked as if he had just been presented with an early birthday present. Dan was watching with a pleased look in her eye, and the other, Seth, looked mildly impressed. Neil pushed the faces of the others out of his mind and focused on Matt, working on trying his best to intimidate him. 

Neil anticipated when the song was about to end and let himself hit the ground when Dan began her countdown. He did a quick six-step, then went up onto one of his hands, tucking the other under his stomach and hitting a simple flair with his legs hoisted slightly above himself in the air. The music faded out, and he easily maneuvered out of the move, dusting his hands off and retreating to the other side of the circle. There were dots of blood where the sharpest gravel had cut into his hands, but for a moment, he let himself not care. He had just  _ danced.  _ It had been as amazing as he remembered it was, maybe even more. He had forgotten about everything except himself and the music. 

This, he thought, was why his mother had told him not to. He eyed the crowd around him, remembering how addictive the feeling of dancing was, how vulnerable it made him. Everybody could see who he was when he danced. If somebody had shot him in the back of his head while he was doing it, he wouldn’t have even reacted. He would’ve been too swept up in the movements to notice until it was too late. 

Yet, even after recognizing this, Neil couldn’t bring himself to care. He had just  _ danced.  _ His body had moved without him thinking about it and he had been swept up into a wonderful dream.  _ This was much better than running,  _ he couldn’t help but think.

Neil held onto the feeling and memories for a moment longer, before letting them wash away from him. No matter how much he wanted to indulge in the fantasy of dancing, he couldn’t. This had been a moment of frantic weakness, a mistake. It could not happen again. He fearfully hoped that nobody had been filming and felt foolish all over again. Neil could not let himself have this. He had to keep running-

“Hey!” 

Neil felt himself turning around immediately, flinching back a little as he met the excited gaze of the brown-skinned girl from earlier. She had tied a bright orange bandana around her forehead,  and her frizzy brown hair stuck up behind it. There was an excited gleam in her eyes, and her mouth perked up into an excited smile when she got his attention. Matt, the one he had faced up against, padded over to him, one of the stacks of fliers, the same color of Dans’ bandana, held carefully in his arms. He was smiling, too. Seth seemed to be somewhere in the crowd, passing out fliers to the rapidly receding crowd. 

“You know, when Matt called you up, I thought you were gonna have a heart attack, your face was so white!” laughed Dan. “But I never would’ve guessed that you could dance like that. Like, damn! Nobody was expecting that.” 

“Um… thanks?” Neil said, hunching slightly into himself. Dan just laughed again, leaving space for Matt to jump into the conversation. 

“You shoulda given me some kinda warning, man!” he laughed. “Like, you are  _ really  _ good! How long have you been dancing for? Honestly, if Kev were here, he might even not insult you!… as much.” 

“Nah, he’d still insult him. Maybe even more than usual,” said Dan, saving Neil from having to answer Matt’s question. She turned back to him and offered a hand, clutching a small envelope. “Here. I think you earned this. We’re almost done packing up anyhow.” 

Neil hesitantly took the envelope from her and quickly opened it. Inside was the promised $100 gift card. Neil had forgotten about the prize. 

Neil looked up and offered a quiet, “Thank you,” in return, tucking the card and envelope into one of the pockets on his hoodie, just big enough that it could fit. He took a step back, planning on hightailing it home as fast as was humanly possible when Matt caught him again. 

“Wait a sec,” Matt said, still smiling, as he offered one of the obnoxiously orange papers to Neil. Neil took it without really thinking and skimmed over it. It was a flier advertising the studio they belonged to, the same one Neil had seen on his run the night before.  _ The Foxhole Court.  _ It had numbers of instructors, as well as classes, age groups, and a couple of hundred other things on it. 

“Though you might have to pay for lessons, if you ever want to come by and join the eldest team, we’re looking for new members. We only have nine at the moment, and after seeing you kickass, I think you’d be a valuable member of our team. You probably wouldn’t have to pay actually. Also, if you sign up to coach some of the younger classes, Wymack pays pretty well. So that’s an option as well.” 

Neil stared at the paper in his hand, eyes wide. He was literally being offered a job, _right now,_ to come and dance in a studio. His hands shook slightly and it took everything in him to still them. Neil had never considered that being a choreographer was a valid career choice. Neil Josten's immediate answer should have been no, seeing as this persona wasn’t supposed to be able to dance in the first place , but after him battling Matt, it wasn’t like he could pretend he wasn’t a dancer. Somewhere inside of himself, he wanted to accept the offer right off the bat. If Neil said yes to this, then he had no doubt that he would enjoy it. Immensely. 

But he caught himself. Neil could not ever really be happy or content. He could not take a risk just because it would bring him joy. Besides, Neil had already just broken one of his core rules.  _ Don’t dance.  _ For all that he knew, there could be videos of him battling Matt being uploaded onto the internet  _ right now.  _ The safe thing to do would be to turn them down, pack up his stuff, and leave town as quickly as he had come. 

Neil looked back up at Dan and Matt with a refusal on his tongue and was met with a single request- “Just think about it, okay?” Dan and Matts’ faces were shining with hope, and Neil found that he couldn’t turn them down quite yet. Instead, Neil swallowed and nodded, his throat suddenly dry. 

“Cool! Great!” Their faces lit up even more and Neil backed off, still clutching the bright orange flier in his hands. This, he knew, was a stupid idea. He acknowledged that. Even just giving hope to Dan and Matt was a stupid idea. Being here was a stupid idea. 

Neil turned on his heel before he could say anything else to them and began a quick-paced walk back towards the direction of his apartment. When he got far enough away, he broke into a sprint, stuffing the flier into one of his pockets. His heart was racing again, and Neil knew he was going to have a panic attack. It was a combination of just everything pouring down on him at once: the dream, breaking his promise to his mother, the hopelessness he was feeling at his current situation.

Neil didn’t make it back in time and instead found himself in a public outdoor restaurant in the park nearest to his apartment complex. He retched into the toilet, chest and sides heaving, eyes blurry with reflux tears. His whole body shook, and he fell to the floor when he was finished, barely managing to flush the toilet before he wrapped his arms around himself and drew his knees up into a loose fetal position. He felt pitiful, sitting there, shaking on the bathroom floor, but images from his dream swam through his consciousness, and he was taken by them, unable to move for fear of finding himself retching into the toilet once again. 

When it was finally over, Neil returned to his apartment, still a little shaky. It was only a little after four now- he had spent a lot more time in the cramped little bathroom then he had thought. It was strangely calming to be at home, so he sat on his bed, neglecting his Italian in favor of scanning over the (now crumpled) orange flier in his hands. His eyes traced the blocky letters with a quiet emotion that he couldn’t quite name, before moving his new gift card somewhere safe and making an early dinner. He was too distracted to do really anything, so after three pieces of burnt toast, he gave up on the endeavor and tried to work on his Italian (key word being  _ tried  _ since he was too distracted to do much more than stare at the pages blankly.)

That night, as he laid in bed, Neil couldn’t sleep. Not only because of the nightmares threatening to jump from his subconscious, but also because he was too busy tracing the bright orange flier with his fingers long after it got too dark to make out the words on it.

Neil had a feeling that this might pose to be a problem. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Neil and Matt battled to was Roses by SAINt JHN (the remix by Imanbek.) This is also where I got the title from. Sorry if I missed any TWs, please feel free to tell me! I went over this only once to fix the grammar and such, so if I messed up anywhere, just comment and tell me to fix it lol. I hope I was able to explain how they danced okay-ish. Eventually, I'll make a post all about the different dance styles and such. If you really want to know about any of the ones I mentioned here, then just comment and I'll explain it to you as best as I can. 
> 
> I hope you like it so far? I think I'll put out at least another chapter just to see if I like where the story is going. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	3. Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil goes for a run and meets some more Foxes. He ends up exactly where he shouldn't be, and does exactly what he shouldn't do. His day gets even worse when he meets someone he never thought he'd have to face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: Mentions of Past Abuse/Trauma
> 
> Whoo! This is way longer than I had planned it would be. Not sure when I'll get the next chapter out, so we'll see. I wrote quite a lot of this late at night, so if something doesn't make sense, that's probably why. I only skimmed over it, so I'm pretty sure I missed a lot of mistakes. if you see any, please feel free to tell me! 
> 
> The chapter title is, of course, from Right Now by Confetti.
> 
> (I think I'll end up re-writing this one. My writer is just not on the clock these days so yeah. RIP.)

_"I'm feeling so alive right now  
_

_I feel like I could fly  
_

_Like I could touch the sky right now  
_

_I guess I got my head in the clouds,"_

_-Right Now,_ Confetti

Neil had always thought of himself as an intelligent person. Someone who was smart enough to stay out of trouble and take care of himself. He had grown up learning to be unnoticed and forgettable. Each personality he crafted for each new character was just carefully bland enough that most people would find him boring and easily ignore him. Each look was mundane and made to not draw any attention to himself. Every backstory, every word, was a lie, made to make it so that others didn’t think twice about him. Neil was a very good liar, in his opinion. 

He was also tenacious and resourceful, but cautious enough that he would never let these traits show unless he was in a pickle. His mother was the one who he had inherited these traits from, and yet she had still been craftier and more paranoid than him. Neil didn’t like to think about her very much these days. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of her made his mood turn sour. She had always done what was best for them and had always protected him in her own way, but he couldn’t help but think in those days before they disappeared when he was much younger. He didn’t have very many memories of his father from then, only his mother. She had laughed a lot when he was younger. Neil strained his mind but couldn’t think of a single time when she had laughed when they were on the run. He couldn’t even think of a time when she had cracked a smile, a real, genuine smile. It was always just that paranoid, worrying look in her eyes, quick to turn to anger and violence if Neil ever made a mistake. _She had only been doing what was best for us,_ Neil reminded himself, but it felt less like a statement of truth and more like the admission of a lie. 

Neil turned his thoughts away from his mother and focused on pouring himself a cup of tea. It was a few days after the dance battle incident and he was still here. He had scoured local web pages on the library to see if any videos of him had been uploaded, but as far as he could tell, he was safe. 

If his mother were here, she probably would have packed up the second he had gotten home and told her what had happened. They would already be gone, halfway across the country maybe, and he would be decorated in bruises. Her fists would be, too. 

Neil slid his eyes closed and brought the tea up to his lips, sipping lightly. It was still too hot, but he cherished the burn, his mind unconsciously making it into a sort of punishment for being so stupid. He really should leave, but so far, he had made no strides to do so. That being said, he also hadn’t gone to the dance studio, so it wasn’t like he was actively continuing to be stupid… even though it was tempting. To dance would be so completely, incredibly idiotic, but the offer lived in his mind, rent-free, taking up permanent residence. He could still feel the ghost sensations of the breeze over his skin as he danced, still feel the beat pumping through his veins like lifeblood. When he closed his eyes, he was there again, dancing. It had been amazing and he wanted to do it again and again and again and keep doing it. 

_No,_ he reminded himself. _That was too close of a call. Dancing is a bad idea. If videos get out, I could be recognized._ It didn’t matter if he had a new name or a new look. His father had found him before when he was disguised, and he could do it again. Nowadays, Neil felt it was only a matter of time before his father’s men came knocking on his door, bats and blindfolds in hand. 

The nightmares had been even worse in the days following the battle, so much so that he had barely gotten a wink of sleep in the past few nights. He had run out of his favorite sleep-inducing tea, and he wasn’t sure if they sold it anywhere near here, so he was relying solely on coffee (which he had run out of yesterday) and his own desperate survival-fueled determination to stay awake. 

If dancing in the battle had made him feel alive, now he felt more dead than ever. Everything he did seemed to be robotic and learned, like a dog doing the same trick over and over again. Routine. Old. Boring. He already missed the freedom that dancing brought him. 

Neil shook his head, trying to dislodge the pesky thoughts from out of his head. Everything he was thinking about now revolved around dancing and/or his mother. These things seemed to go hand in hand like he couldn’t have one thing without the other. Then again, it might just be that he could not dance without the ghost of his mother whispering things into his ear, things like _“Run, hide, leave, why did you stop running, what are you doing, Abram, Abram, Abram.”_

Neil groaned and brought a hand up to his head, rubbing the sides of his head in an attempt to ward off another headache. He seemed to be getting those a lot as of late.

Nei felt himself moving robotically away from the counter, abandoning the last of his tea in favor of pulling on a hoodie and a pair of running shoes. That was one thing he could do: run away from his problems. He could only run for so long, and they would always catch up to him, but the illusion of safety it brought would always be worth it. Plus, another upside was that he could forget about everything else going on in his messy life and just focus on running until his legs gave out underneath him, effectively saving him a few hours of thought. 

Lacing up his running shoes, Neil padded out of the door, his eyes focusing on his surroundings before dropping to the floor. Running. He needed this. He needed to focus on this. 

Before long, Neil was out, the rhythmic pounding of his feet of the sidewalk wiping his mind clean of any troubling thoughts. Neil let times pass around him as the early morning air bit into his calves and wrists, turning his cheeks and ears pink. He ran until he didn’t know where he was anymore, then he ran some more until he did. 

Eventually, he ended up at that same place where he had battled only a few days prior. He blinked and slowed when he realized what he had done, staring at the sight of where the crowd had been as his thoughts slowly caught up to him. Then, when he had enough headspace to remember, he turned and ran again, leaving the thoughts and feeling behind him, where they would linger until he stopped. 

Neil ran for another few hours after that, but it seemed even his subconscious was out to get him. When he knew he had to stop, bending over and panting loudly as he grabbed onto his knees, he looked up to find that he was in front of another horribly familiar sight- The Foxhole Court. Neil gasped and moaned a little bit, shuddering, and did everything he could to stop himself from falling onto the ground right there. 

“Damn this…” he mumbled under his breath. “Damn me. God… damn everything.” 

It seemed Neil was exceptionally unlucky today (who was he kidding? He was unlucky every single day of his miserable life) because at that moment a red van drove up behind him and parked inside of the lot. Out jumped two familiar faces, as well as another, unfamiliar one, all noticing him immediately. 

“Hey!” cried Matt, mouth already pulled up into a grin as he half-jogged towards Neil. “Look who it is. The kid who beat me!” 

Neil, unable to move for fear of collapsing, wheezed pitifully. Matt didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he was polite enough not to say anything (or simply didn’t care.) 

Matt got close enough to stick out a hand to him, which Neil didn’t bother trying to take. Matt seemed undeterred, however, and left his hand stuck out between them. Neil couldn’t help but to eye it like a sort of bomb. 

“You finally decided to join us, eh kid?” called Dan, who was walking over to join them, as well as the other newcomer. Neil groaned internally. This was not how he wanted today to go. 

If Dan and Matt were nice enough to comment on his current situation, this newcomer was not. She was a tall, leggy blonde with intelligent eyes and long fingernails, who looked as if she had just walked off of a magazine cover. Her mouth played up into a smirk as she surveyed him.

“This is him? He sure looks like an old-school b-boy all right,” she said, smirking mischievously. “Though he’s really playing it up on the whole ‘I have had this same set of clothes since I was ten and I have washed them maybe three times during that entire time.” 

Neil had owned this particular set of clothes since he was about fourteen, but he decided to keep that to himself. Besides, he did his laundry regularly, so it wasn’t like she was _that_ spot on. 

She gave him another look over when she got close enough and said, “Damn, boy. Running from your problems? You must have a lot.” 

It was blunt and assessing, and Neil found somehow that he didn’t mind this newcomer too much. He had the feeling that she wouldn’t lie to spare his feelings, and that she definitely wouldn’t lie to be outright malicious. She didn’t seem like she wanted anything from him, and he had the feeling that she didn’t really care what others thought about her, as long as they admired her. Neil could respect that, even if he didn’t know why. There was something calming about her. 

Neil’s breathing had finally slowed at this point, enough for him to think up a response and straighten out a bit. “What, have you decided to bless us with your presence or something?” he said, too tired to think up anything wittier. 

She snorted. “Allison,” she said simply, then turned and walked away without waiting for a reply. Neil noticed that Matt’s hand was still held hopefully out in front of him, and Neil carefully took it, even though he didn’t really need his help. Matt shook his hand and grinned triumphantly. Neil just looked at him.

“So,” Dan said, from next to Matt, “I assume you know our names already?”

“Dan,” Neil responded immediately, “and Matt.”

Matt grinned, letting go of his hand. “Yep! I don’t think we ever caught yours, or else I would have remembered it.”

It was an obvious invitation. Neil had a feeling that if he gave them his name, it would be a very stupid choice, but at the moment, he was too tired to think about why. 

“Neil,” he said. “Neil Josten.”

“Josten, eh?” asked Dan, trying out the word on her tongue. “Well, Neil Josten, nice to formally meet you. As you know, I’m Dan Wilds, and this is Matt Boyd, my fiance. The blonde you just met was Allison Reynolds.”

“...Reynolds?” asked Neil. The name was familiar. “Like… the super-rich family Reynolds or-”

“That’s the one!” Allison called to them from where she was walking out of the studio. “Though I think my family is trying to disown me, so it may only be an honorary title soon enough.” She sent Neil that mischievous smirk again.

“I’m not sure if that’s how it works,” said Dan, laughing a little. 

Allison waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t care,” she said simply. “Their loss, anyhow. I’m a way better dancer than all of them combined.” She flipped her hair for dramatic effect.

Neil finally remembered what little he knew about the Reynolds family company. They dealt mostly in Ballet supplies and were a large supporter of theater and the arts. He wondered what happened between Allison and her family to cause such a large rift, but didn’t ask. He had let himself slip in these past few moments, mostly because he was too tired to keep the filter on his mouth working properly. He screwed his eyes tightly shut and opened them again, blinking away dark spots. 

The others seemed to notice that something was off. “You okay, man?” asked Matt, a bit hesitant. “You look kinda like you’ve been stumbling around the city since one in the morning. Or, kinda like you’re massively hungover. Or both. Er- I mean, no offense, but -”

Dan saved him. “You look really worn out,” she admitted. “Are you alright?”

"I'm fine," Neil said. The other three exchanged a look. 

“Well… if you want to come inside, we have really cold water, if you need some. Maybe even some coffee, if you’d like some of that?” 

Matt nodded along, before cutting in, “We have food too, and really comfy couches upstairs.” He looked at Dan and asked, “Uh, we do have food, right?” 

Dan shrugged, indicating she didn’t know and Allison said quickly, “I think Wymack stocked the minifridge up last night. And he might’ve gotten the good coffee too. I’m not sure though.”

“Great!” said Matt happily, turning back to Neil. “You’re down, right? I mean, you can say no, but… like, your welcome to come in.” He smiled an awkwardly endearing kind of grin and Neil found that he couldn’t say no, so instead, he just shrugged his shoulders and followed after them as they made their way up the steps to the dance studios’ front doors. 

The doors creaked open to reveal another set of glass doors behind them, with the lights turned on to reveal a waiting room of sorts and a front desk. Matt held open the door and ushered them through, cutting off Neils’ plan of escape from behind. Viscerally, Neil found himself scanning his surroundings for all possible exits. 

There were two hallways on either side of the front desk, with doors on either side of them, as well as glass viewing windows, dark and glossy. Allison took the left side and switched on a light as they went, illuminating the hallway and sending streaks of light into the viewing windows, revealing large rooms with hardwood floors and mirrors wrapping around the walls. There were four large rooms in this particular hallway, all to the left, and professional photography of dancers were hung up on the right wall, their bodies twisted and modeled into difficult-looking positions. 

At the end of the hallway, there was a single desk with a large TV above it and a few chairs of either side of the hall, stacked up and ready to be moved back to their places by the windows. There was also a door to the right with an ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on it, which Allison jerked open, revealing a set of stairs going up and back the way they had come. 

The others began to climb and Neil let himself be led up to where a comfy-feeling room was. It was about half the length of the hallway, though there was another set of doors separating a pair of rooms that Neil guessed were the bathrooms. There were two windows on each side, looking into the darkened practice rooms, and a large flatscreen TV at the very end of the building, facing where the entrance would be. A couple of soft-looking brown couches and colorful bean bags decorated the floor there, with a glass coffee table in front of the main couch that faced the tv. On the right side of the room, a long table was set into the wall with stools plopped in front of it, lining the side and looking out over the windows. A bubbling tank, decorated with bright pebbles and plants gurgled happily on one side and Neil noticed a few fish darting here and there in colorful streaks. There was another large cage too, right underneath the counter, but Neil didn’t know what was in it. Finally, on the side of the room where they had just come up, a few feet away from where the balcony for the stairs ended, was a small countertop with a microwave and coffee maker on it, as well as a minifridge sitting next to it. It looked out over the other practice room through another window. A few cabinets sat between the above the mini-fridge, attached to the wall and ceiling. There seemed to be a sink on the other side of the mini-fridge, right below the cabinets, but Neil couldn’t catch a very good glimpse of it.

The room was surprisingly quaint, yet nice. Neil padded to where the couch area was, sinking into the soft fabric and holding back a sigh and he took one last look at his surroundings. There was a water machine he hadn’t noticed before between the two doors, and Neil suddenly felt very thirsty. 

He stood, intent to grab a drink of water, but Dan seemed to have other plans. Recognizing his intent, she waved her hand and said, “Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ll get you a drink.” Neil sank back into the cushions, unsure how to feel about this. 

Dan quickly went about getting him a small, plastic cup from one of the cupboards and padding over to the fridge, where Matt was already standing. Allison was making her way towards the fish tank on the opposite counter, apparently going to feed them. 

Matt was pulling a small carton of milk from out of the fridge which Dan quickly snatched from him, giving him a disapproving look before walking over to where Neil was and pouring some milk into a small cup, offering it to him. Neil was surprised for a moment, and Dan seemed to take this as hesitance. 

“It’s okay, it’s just milk, no poison, I swear,” said Dan playfully, before adopting a thoughtful expression. “I mean, unless you’re lactose intolerant or something-”

“No, um, it’s okay. Thanks,” Neil said, accepting the milk from her and draining it, before running his tongue over his lips. 

Dan padded away from him to join Allison at the counter, and Matt seated himself on one of the other couches, picking up a remote from the coffee table and turning the TV on before flipping through channels. Neil let the sound of whatever gameshow Matt put on take up the stillness of the room, along with the soft murmuring of Dan and Allisons’ conversation. He couldn’t help but feel awkward and out of place here, in this cozy little room. Like he was a stranger here, looking from the outside in, taking part of something that didn’t belong to him. The thing was, there was a flicker of something inside of him that wanted it, wanted it desperately. Neil had to smoosh that little flicker of want before it turned into a fire. He couldn’t want this, because he would never be allowed to keep it. 

Allison and Dan made their way back over to him. Though Dan took a seat next to Matt, scooting closer to him and deliberately trying to stay out of Neils’ space, Allison took a seat right next to him, blowing a few pieces of hair out of her face before turning to him and looking him up and down. 

“So,” she said conversationally, “Neil, eh?” Neil didn’t remember giving her his name, as she had walked away when he had formally introduced himself to Matt and Dan, so he assumed she had gotten it from her previous conversation with Dan. Neil shrugged and Allison gave him another once-over, pulling one of her legs up to her body. She was wearing shorts, giving Neil a very good view of her thighs and calves but Neil didn’t bother caring. He could tell on some level that she was attractive, yes, but he found there was nothing very physically appealing about her to him. That was the way he felt about most people who were typically labeled as attractive. 

Allison seemed to find significance in the way his gaze never faltered from her face and she chuckled. “Damn, and I had thought I might’ve had a chance to make my ex jealous,” she said lightly, a smirk playing across her lips. Neil didn’t really understand what she meant, so he just shrugged and looked away, trying to focus on the TV. This earned him another laugh, yet he couldn’t figure out what about this situation was so funny to her. He hoped she would read this for the dismissal it was and go bother someone else. Even though he found Allisons’ personality refreshing, there was no way he could ever truly trust her. There was no way he could trust anybody, in fact.

Allison pressed on regardless. “So, Dan says you can dance pretty good.” Neil didn’t answer, sparing her another glance, but she continued as if she could care less about the lack of attention. “Knowing her, that could mean you dance like a flaming pile of dumpster trash on legs or maybe pretty okay-ish. Usually, I wouldn’t care, but Dan and Matt were pretty excited when they talked about you, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Neil couldn’t help but ask, “They talked about me?” He had recognized before that they had at least mentioned him, but Neil had hoped it wasn’t much more than that. 

“Oh, yeah. Matt especially. They’ve been talking about you so much these past few days that there are three separate bets riding on your dancing abilities and whether or not you actually exist.” She grinned lazily at him, and Neil felt his stomach sink like a stone. 

“Do you bet?” Allison asked unexpectedly, and Neil cursed his tired body for not waking up faster. He was not in the right frame of mind to answer questions like these.

“Uh, no.” He answered simply.

“Why?” asked Allison, obviously determined to keep the conversation going. 

“Just… on principle.” He said, rubbing his eyes a little. “It’s not safe, risking your money on pure chance.”

Allison snorted. “Well, sure, if you look at it that way,” she told him with a playful edge in her voice. 

Neil wasn’t invested enough in this conversation to ask what she meant. Instead, he turned and addressed the room. “I should really get going soon,” he told them. “Thank you for inviting me in but-”

Allison, unsurprisingly, was the one who cut him off. “Oh, no, honey,” she said with a grin as sharp as a knife, “you aren’t going anywhere until I get to see you get down.”

It took a minute for Neil to process these words and when he did, he could only blink in shock. “What-?”

“Allison!” Dan scolded, jumping up from where she was pressed next to Matt on the couch. “Neil doesn’t have to dance for you unless he wants to.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Matt, even though he looked a little crestfallen. “It’s his choice. Besides, I’d hate to think we’re keeping him from something important.” Matt’s eyes sought out Neils’ now-shuttered expression as if hoping for him to stay. 

Neil sighed in almost-relief and was about to make his excuses and leave when the sound of heavy footsteps started echoing up the wooden stairs. Neil felt himself sit up without meaning to, quickly turning around just in time to see a dark head of hair come bobbing up the stairs. Attached to said ‘head of hair’ was a tall, bulky man wearing a white wife-beater, with tribal tattoos decorating his arms. He turned and Neil couldn’t help but flinch back. He was the same build as his own father, and in Neils’ experience, men like his father were to be treated with caution. 

The man stopped at the top of the stairs, taking in the sight of Dan, Allison, Matt, and Neil all watching him from the couches. He raised one eyebrow and asked, “What is going on here?” 

Dan was quick to answer, standing up eagerly and almost tripping as she made her way over to him. “Wymack!” 

The man called Wymack made an unimpressed expression as Dan came to stand in front of him. “That is my name, yes.” He said, his eyes sweeping over the room again and locking on Neil. Neil fought off the urge to shiver. “Yes, I am aware of my own name. Who is this?”

He gestured to Neil, and Neil felt himself slouch a little in his chair. Allison abandoned her seat next to him and said simply, “This is Neil. He’s the one who beat Matt in the street battle, apparently.”

Wymack frowned a little, but it wasn’t an intimidating expression as it would have been if his father was standing in front of him. “Neil, huh? So you do exist.” 

Neil just looked at him. Wymack didn’t seem to be bothered by this. 

A sudden weight on the couch next to him nearly made Neil fall over. He whipped his head to the right, only to see that it was Matt, smiling at him. He seemed to completely miss Neils’ reaction. “I told you he was real.”

Wymack, however, was more perceptive. He scowled at Matt and said, “So what’s the poor kid doing here, huh? He looks like you just kidnapped him and took him captive.”

Allison snorted and Dan gave him a sympathetic look. Neil didn’t bother checking Matt’s reaction, instead keeping his cautious gaze on the man named Wymack. 

“He came by here earlier, on his run,” Dan explained. “We invited him in. I gave him some milk.” 

Neil wasn’t sure why mentioning the milk was important to her synopsis, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he said, “Yeah. But I have to get going.” He shouldn’t have come here in the first place, and now more people knew of his existence. 

“Are you sure?” asked Matt, looking downcast. He reminded Neil of a sad puppy. 

Neil shrugged again. Dan frowned at him, and said simply, “Before you leave, though, let us make you some coffee, and maybe a piece of toast. You look pretty tired out.”

Neil opened his mouth to decline, but his stomach answered for him by letting out a low groan. Neil blushed a little, and Matt said, “Well, that settles it.” He gave Neil a big smile and then hesitated before patting him on the shoulder a little. Neil frowned, puzzled at the interaction, and Matt quickly got up, working his way over to the coffee machine. 

Dan pulled a toaster out of one of the cupboards, as well as a loaf of bread, and busied herself with making Neil a couple of pieces of toast. Neil sank back into the cushions, rubbing his arms and keeping his eyes trained on the ground. Allison snapped her fingers at him to get his attention and he looked up, surprised.

“Are you shy or something?” she asked. “Because I’m willing to bet that you don’t actually have anywhere to be right now.”

Neil, tired and completely caught off guard, stuttered out, “What?” 

Allison sighed, ignoring his response. “Maybe not. But, whatever. You do you, I guess.” She gave him another one of those strangely appreciative looks before saying, “It’s too bad, though. I was looking forward to seeing you dance.”

Neil eyed her suspiciously. “Why?” 

Allison rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re just _so_ cute, you know that? Oblivious, too.”

Neil frowned at her. Allison was strange, he decided. In his life, he had been called a lot of things, but never oblivious. What did she mean by that? Neil prided himself on being very observant and attentive. He never missed anything, because he couldn’t afford to. 

As for the ‘cute’ thing, he decided to ignore it altogether. 

“Hey, Neil! Food’s ready.” Dan smiled at him from across the room, holding a plate of buttered toast in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. Neil took this as an excuse to escape Allisons’ competent gaze and hurried over to take the food. Wymack and Matt were conversing a few seats away, so Neil scooted over to the very last chair and began to eat his food. He felt Wymacks’ gaze fall on him, but he refused to meet his eyes, instead, placing a hand protectively around his plate and drink. 

He finished the food in only a few minutes, as he had been taught to eat fast and effectively, eating the best parts of the toast first and saving the worst for last, another thing he had learned on the run. The effects of the coffee were nearly immediate, and though he still felt rough and wrong in his own skin (lingering effects from his nightmares), he was much more awake. 

“Neil!” Looking up at where Dan’s voice had come from, he was greeted with the sight of another face, this one familiar as well. It was the other boy from the dance battle, the one who had been handing out posters. He was leaving back against the stair balcony, face unimpressed. Neil searched his memory for a name, but couldn’t quite remember if he had been given it or not. 

“You remember Seth, right?” Dan asked. Neil nodded once.

Allison, as if summoned, dropped onto the chair next to him and smiled at Seth. It was a cold smile. Seth scowled at them and Neil shifted uncomfortably on his chair, tension suddenly filling the room. 

“Uh, let’s go downstairs,” called Matt hastily. “The monsters won’t be here for a little while, and Renee has something, so we can practice… and stuff.” 

_And I can finally leave,_ Neil thought, relieved. 

They made their way downstairs and made their way into the first practice room on their left. Neil tensed as he felt himself lightly pushed into the room and looked behind him to see Allison shut the door behind him. Wymack watched from the viewing window, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Allison gave him a look and brushed past him, shoving something into his palm as he passed. Neil glanced down, seeing a small scrap of paper with the word, _“dance"_

Neil stared down at the note, mouth pressing into a firm line. Maybe Allison was more of a problem that he had originally thought. He looked up, sending her a glare, and turned, intent on getting out as fast as possible when Seth called, “So… Neil, huh?”

Reluctantly, Neil turned to see Seth padding towards him from the large speaker in the front of the room, eyes narrowed into a fierce expression. “You finally decided to show up?”

Neil frowned at him before saying, “Not really.” It sounded like a dismissal. 

Seth’s mouth pressed into a snarl and he glowered at Neil with enough force to scare off a lesser man. Neil wasn’t intimidated, however; he had spent enough of his life running that he was able to discern from somebody being an actual threat or not. Seth was all bark, no bite, as far as he could tell. 

Neil just looked at him with a pair of dead eyes, before turning once again, intent to get out as fast as possible. 

“Hold up,” called Matt. Neil stopped again, suppressing a sigh as he turned once more. Matt’s eyes were wide and hopeful as he made his way over to where Neil and Seth were standing. “I know you have something you need to do, but I’d really appreciate it if you stayed for just a bit longer. We could really use someone like you on our team, and I wouldn’t mind watching you dance again, either. You’re really good.”

Neil stared at him for a minute longer, surprised. He knew he had to leave, but that puppy-dog look on Boyds’ face was too much. Or, maybe it was just because he really wanted another excuse to dance. Letting his shoulders slump, he sighed in resignation. “All right.” 

“Really?” Matt obviously didn’t think that his plea would have any effect on Neil. It really shouldn’t have, either. Neil silently cursed himself for his idiotic choices. He should have said no. He never should have come here. If his mother were still around, she would have beat him within an inch of his life. Then again, if his mother were still around, he probably wouldn’t have ended up in this town in the first place. 

Neil made his way to where the other two were standing, Seth close behind. Allison looked up from the phone she was holding to catch his eye. “Change your mind, Neil?” she asked sweetly. 

“Just… for now,” he answered vaguely. Allison grinned. 

“Wait, you’re staying?” Dan asked, face morphing into a smile. “Cool! You can join our cypher.”

“A cypher?” Neil asked hesitantly. He knew what they were, of course. Cyphers were when groups of people got together in a circle and took turns freestyling in the middle. Neil had been in a few when he was younger and remembered enjoying them. 

“Yeah!” called Matt. “They’re really fun, especially with more people.” 

The others were already starting to form a wide circle, leaving him a space to step in. Neil just looked at the space reserved for him for a moment, a strange feeling overtaking him. If he took this final step, he wondered if he would ever be able to back out again. Of course, he could leave, but would he want to? Dancing was addicting, in that wonderfully freeing way. He had already dipped his toes in and tested out the water when he had participated in the battle a few days prior, but this felt more like he was ready to swim. If he started now, he’d be pulled away by the tide. He wouldn’t be able to come back. 

Neil took his place in the circle, the words, “Sorry, mom,” stuck on his tongue. He let himself be enveloped by the familiar sight and shifted his weight from side to side, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins. Allison caught his eyes and grinned. 

“Oh,” she said. “That’s interesting.” She didn’t elaborate and Neil didn’t ask. 

Dan took the phone from Allisons’ grasp and padded away to the speaker with it, standing above the speakers before finally settling on a song. The beat started pumping, lively and loud, and Neil felt the rest of his worries fall away. Dan rejoined the group, leaving the phone on the chair behind her. The others bopped and swayed to the beat, eyeing each other, waiting to see who took the first step. Neil didn’t plan on going first- he didn’t want to lose himself to the beat quite yet. 

The first person who stepped up to the plate was Dan. She made a show of stretching out her arms and legs, before finally starting to dance. 

Dan’s style was obviously influenced by ballroom dancing. She focused on her legs a lot more than her arms and had a certain feel about her that exuded strength and grace. She leaped and spun a lot, her moves feminine and aggressive. She danced like she had nothing to lose like it was the only thing that mattered. 

Neil felt himself step back without meaning to as she extended a hand out to him in a long sort of bow, before bouncing back into a spin. She hit a few beats with a complicated set of footings, voguing with her hands before finishing her with a flexible looking point. She then turned and easily made her way back to her place in the circle.

By this time, the second verse of the song hit. Matt didn’t even wait, throwing himself into the song. He combined his usual style with a lot of more feminine moves and hits, before going up onto one foot and falling into a side split and stretching his arms out above him. Matt and Allison let out loud whoops and he pulled himself out of the hold, immediately falling into a strobing pattern as he brought his hands back towards his face, as if he were trying to keep his balance while something was shaking the floor around him. 

Matt swept around the circle in a mesmerizing illusion, looking as if he were moving without stepping. It was just weight changes, but it was still impressive looking. Neil remembered that he had pulled off a move like this outside on the pavement too, and marveled at how smooth he had kept it. 

Matt kept up a pattern of popping, locking, and, occasionally, strobing. He was a good dancer, if not a bit messy, and it was hard not to cheer for him when he hit a particularly hard set of moves. 

Matt finished off the song with a quick combo that sent him spiraling back into his spot. The circle was silent for a moment and then the next song came on. It had much the same vibe as the original one, with a different undertone. Neil tensed, readying himself to step out into the circle, but Allison beat him to it, stepping out in a single fluid motion. 

Allisons’ style was admirable in the way that it completely fit her.He had only known her for a morning, but her style made sense. It was a mix of aggressive feminine moves that focused mainly on her hips and arms, as well as having a carefully measured side to it as if every move was carefully planned in advance. 

Allison easily hit every beat of the fast-paced song using complicated waacking and tutting moves, two things that Neil had never been particularly good at. Allison slid to the left, winking at him as she did, and Seth bristled ever-so-slightly. 

Allison fell into an aggressive pattern with her arms and hands, accompanied by mesmerizing body rolls and hip thrusts. Matt and Seth couldn’t seem to look away, but Neil quickly got tired of the repetitive movement. 

Allison stuck her tongue out as she passed him on her way back to her place in the circle. Neil leaned forward, ready to step in, but Seth was faster. He swept into the circle with a cold frown on his face and hit almost immediately. 

Seth's’ style was interesting because it was different from the others. It didn’t take long for him to fall to his hands and throw his legs up into a flair, a mimic of the very one that Neil had done during the battle. Matt cheered loudly as Seth fell to the ground, spinning on his back before jumping up and shuffling across the circle. He rocked along with the beat, eyes narrowed in annoyance, before falling into down rock again. It wasn’t anything too difficult, but the freezes he mixed in made it interesting enough to watch. Finally, just as the song ended, Seth leaped to his feet again and walked back to his spot.

Silence. Then the next song began, fading in. Neil felt all eyes on him as he stepped forward. The song was edited, it seemed because it jumped forward a bit and to a place with a hard baseline and powerful drums. 

It only took a moment for Neil to become completely immersed in the music, forgetting everything around him as he anticipated the next beats of the song, mostly focused on popping and locking, before falling into a top rocking pattern. The beats came at him mercilessly, yet he felt more alive than he ever had. Everything else faded away and Neil did a few complicated combos when the music came to a stop. Neil froze for a moment, heart beating hard in his chest as he blinked.

Then, the music came back. It was different this time, without such a driving beat. Jazzier, almost. Neil felt himself adjust accordingly, and then he was swept back in his bones singing and his heart racing. Neil did a few more freezes before stumbling forward and falling to the ground, stopping himself seconds before his face slammed into the ground. The music lifted and the driving beat was back, and Neil lifted his legs above his body, holding himself up with one hand, before spinning to the ground in a windmill-like movement. 

Just before the song ended, Neil threw his legs up above his head and spun around a few times, inciting a gasp from the others. He easily transitioned from spinning to pulling himself into a crouch. There was some excited whooping and Neil couldn’t help but grin. It felt amazing to dance, and it always would. 

Neil stood, slightly shaky, and found his way back to his place. Allison ran over to him, grinning, and the others looked impressed, even Seth, who also looked as if he wished he wasn’t. Neil smirked at them, then said, “That was fun.”

“Damn, boy!” called Dan, her mouth played up into a smile. “You really do have some moves.” 

Neil, still slightly shaky, shrugged, but he couldn’t stop grinning. Fuck everything else, _this_ was where he was supposed to be. 

Matt walked over to him and patted him on the back, hesitant, opening his mouth as if he were about to say something else when he was interrupted by the door opening. Neil turned as the others did as Wymack walked in, followed by-

Neils’ smile dropped and his arms fell uselessly by his sides as he stared. There, standing in the doorway behind, Wymack, was world-renowned dancer, b-boy extraordinaire Kevin Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really happy with this chapter tbh, but it is what it is. I know it's kinda boring, but we'll get into the meat of this fic soon enough. I think I like where this is going and have enough ideas that I want to continue it. Thank you for your comments and kudos! They mean a lot. I'll try and respond as much as I can. 
> 
> Next up: The Monsters (feat. Kevin.)
> 
> Songs They Danced To (In Order):  
> -Right Now by Confetti  
> -Sweet Tooth by Scott Helman  
> -Blah Blah Blah by Armin van Buuren
> 
> Here's the move that Neil did at the end if you're interested in that: https://i.makeagif.com/media/2-16-2016/sIvyaM.gif


	4. 'No, Thank You'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil has a fight and meets Andrew. He goes home and makes a choice that should be more difficult then it actually is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs: Mentions of Past Abuse/Trauma, Vomiting 
> 
> Shorter update this time! Pulled the title from Weak by AJR, as you can see. It'll (hopefully) start getting more interesting in the next few chapters. I'm doing one more Neil POV and then I'll try and alternate from Neil to Andrew every other chapter.

_“‘No, thank you,’ is what I should’ve said,_

_I should be in bed,_

_But temptations of trouble on my tongue,_

_Troubles yet to come,”_

_-Weak_ by AJR

Kevin Day had changed a lot since Neil had last seen him. That was, of course, expected, seeing as they had met when they were 10 and hadn’t seen each other since. Well, that wasn’t completely true: Kevin hadn’t seen Neil since, but Neil had definitely seen Kevin. Though his mother had pushed him away from any and all things dance (especially Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama) it was kind of hard to miss them, seeing as they were very, very famous. In stores, there would be images of them on magazine covers. There were mentions of them and their dramas all over TV. In fact, Neil was pretty sure that the world was _obsessed_ with Kevin and Riko. 

Neil was in a way, too. He would never admit it to anybody, but when his mother was out, he would sometimes switch his TV over to channels that featured Kevin and Riko. The ‘Dancing Darlings’ (which Neil thought was one of the worst things to be nicknamed in the history of nicknames) had grown up in the public eye. They were a part of the Ravens, a prestigious dancing group that only let in the best of the best. Riko was known as a king among dancers, one of the top-ranking dancers currently alive. A lot of people called him the ‘King’ of b-boying, and the number one tattooed on his face only reinforced this image. 

Kevin Day, the younger, slightly taller one of the two, was known for his b-boying- that, and how inseparable he and Riko were. He himself had a number 2 on his face, right under his eye, a symbol that made heads turn wherever he went. Kevin was basically _worshipped_ by those in the dance community. Neil couldn’t help but feel horribly jealous of him. How had Kevin and he been standing under that same roof, watching his father cut a man into tiny bits and pieces, and turned out so differently? How was Kevin loved and revered, while Neil was just another nobody? It was another thing in life that seemed so unfair to Neil, another thing he could only wish for. 

Yet, at the moment, Neil should not be wondering why they had such different lives. He should not be _standing here,_ staring Kevin Day in the face. The last he had heard of Kevin Day was that he was taking a break away from dance for a few months, to take a 'mental health' break. Tetsuji and Riko had said that he didn’t plan on dancing seriously for a career any longer, but hadn’t elaborated on why. Now, Kevin was here in a dance studio, looking Neil up and down. 

There were quite a few things wrong with this scenario.

Neil immediately bristled, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. Did Kevin remember him? Was that why he was here, with that look on his face? 

He was taller than Neil (which wasn’t much of a feat) with hair so dark it was almost black. He stared at him with an inscrutable determination in his hard green eyes, his mouth pressed into a frown. Neil could only stare back, his eyes narrowed into a slight glare.

Kevin stepped forward and Neil braced himself for what was about to occur. He would be recognized. He would have to run. His name might get out and his father would find him again. Neil cursed himself. He never should have danced in the first place. This was what happened when he didn’t obey his mothers’ rules. He got burned. 

He should’ve known he could never really have this. 

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’d better be joining this team.”

It took a minute for that to sink in. Neil first felt relief at the fact that Kevin didn’t recognize him, then shock at that same fact, and then, as his final words landed in Neils’ ears, complete fucking confusion. 

“I- what?” Neil choked out, fighting the urge to run forward and shake Kevin and scream, _“What do you mean? What the fuck do you mean? You want me on your team? Don’t you_ recognize _me!?”_

Neil instead took a moment to pull himself together. Kevin spoke again. 

“You heard me. This team is pitiful. I need somebody who’s completely invested in this. Somebody who has at least a small amount of skill. I’m running out of options, and you currently seem to be the best one.”

He spoke with a haughty scowl on his face and Neil noticed how he carefully stayed away from actually complimenting Neil during his entire explanation. Neil had seen Kevin on TV many times, but he had no idea that he could possibly act like this. He had seemed so likable on every talk show, so excited to dance. Thinking back on it, he had been happy and excited when he had met Neil too, all those many years ago. What changed? 

"You could use some work- a _lot_ of work- but you'll work. I'll just have to coach you, I guess." He sighed like this was the most boring thing he could possibly be doing at the moment. 

Neil shook his head, pushing away the other chatter in his brain to focus on what was important. Kevin Day was right here. Kevin had seen him. Neil had to run. 

“No.” The word left Neil’s mouth before he could think up a better response. It tasted like bile, because, out of everything in the world, he really, really, really wanted to dance. He especially wanted to dance with Kevin Day. But he couldn’t, and it had been stupid of him to even entertain the idea. 

Kevin gave him an annoyed look. “What do you mean, ‘no?’” he snapped. 

Neil smiled, but it was a cold smile, the one that he hated. “I mean exactly that- no, I will not join this team.” 

Kevin completely froze for a moment, as he processed this, eyes wide with incredulity. “I- what the fuck do you _mean_ you won’t dance with me? Do you know who I fucking am?” 

Kevin currently reminded Neil of a person in the grocery store right before they asked to speak to the manager. Neil decided on a good description for Kevin- _cocky son of a bitch._ It fit well. 

“Yes,” Neil said. “You’re Kevin Day, b-boy extraordinaire, a dancing darling adored by the public. And, no, I don’t care. Just because you have your face plastered on every surface that even has to do with dance doesn’t mean I have to worship you like everybody else. My answer is no. I won’t dance with you.” Neil started forward, intending to walk straight past Kevin and out of the door for good, already planning where he would move to next, when a dark figure sprang forward from behind Kevin and shoved him. Hard.

Neil tumbled to the floor, throwing his arms out to catch himself but not doing so in time. He hit the hardwood with a loud thump that pushed all the air out of his lungs and made his stomach turn to jelly. For one, paralyzing moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Dark spots danced across his vision and he thought he heard somebody shout something. 

Then, he was able to suck in a breath and the rest of his senses came after that, tricking in slowly. Neil groaned, rubbing the back of his head and sitting up, not quite quick enough for his tastes. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, tasting blood in his mouth and realizing he had bitten his tongue. He did a silent inventory of everything- his body ached, but it wasn’t bad. Just some bruising, if that. He looked up to see Kevin staring at him with wide eyes, the dark shape before standing next to him. Only, it wasn’t a dark shape. It was somebody that Neil recognized, if only because of Kevin.

About a year or so ago, Kevin and Riko went out to recruit someone into the Ravens. This was a big deal, because they only invited in the best of the best, and this time, they weren’t just recruiting a background dancer. No, they were inviting this person to become part of the _perfect_ team. The ones on the front line. All people on the perfect team had a number tattooed on their cheek, showing off their rank. There were only three people- Riko Moriyama, Kevin Day and Jean Moreau, who held the number three spot. 

The person who they were recruiting ended up being Andrew Minyard, a nobody with a dangerous history. Apparently, they had heard of his dancing skills and visited him in juvie, where he was serving a sentence for stealing a car and pushing it off a cliff or something like that. Nobody understood the choice, as it seemed very controversial, but it didn’t matter, because (for reasons unknown) Andrew turned down their offer. Apparently, he laughed in Riko’s face when he was first asked to join the team.

After that, he fell away from the news for a while, but there were still stories. The biggest piece of drama had come out when he had beat up a group of men at a nightclub, almost killing two of them. As part of his bail, he was forced to take antipsychotics or something like that. The tabloids were never really clear about what had happened. 

Of course, Neil hadn’t really cared- even though he secretly despised Andrew for getting the chance of a lifetime and basically spitting on it and stomping it into the dirt, when he had no reason to turn them down. Neil just couldn’t understand what motivated Andrew to do anything- apparently, nobody could. He was, supposedly, an amazing dancer- when he could be coerced into dancing. Yet, now, with Andrew standing in front of him with a horribly manic grin on his face, Neil had quite a few more questions. The most prominent of them being, _“What the fuck is Kevin, who is supposed to be taking a break, doing here, with Andrew Minyard of all people at his side?”_ Another, slightly less prominent one was, _“How could someone so small do so much damage?”_

Andrew was short- even shorter than Neil- so Neil hoped that it was just because he had been caught off guard. But Neil had been taught to never underestimate your enemy, and Andrew was definitely counting as his enemy. He may have looked small, but the murderous gleam in his eye and his solid-looking body made Neil think twice. He must be quite muscly under his black shirt to be able to do that much damage with just one hit. 

“Hello,” said Andrew Minyard, his mouth curving up into a manic smile. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Neil gritted his teeth and struggled to stand, stumbling backward a bit. There was the sound of cursing and somebody behind him- probably Dan- called, “Oh, my god, Neil are you okay?” Neil ignored the noises in favor of looking Andrew up and down. He wasn’t sure exactly why Andrew had knocked him down- maybe the tabloids were right about Andrew and he was simply crazy after all. Although, wasn’t he supposed to be on meds to stop this type of behavior?

Wymack pushed past Kevin, who still looked like a koi fish with his mouth wide open like that, and asked wearily, “What the fuck, Andrew?” Judging from his tone, Neil was guessing that this wasn’t the first time Andrew had pulled a stunt like this. He then turned his gaze onto Neil. “You okay, kid?” 

Neil swallowed, his mouth feeling sour. No, he was not okay. Kevin Fucking Day was _standing right in front of him_ and he had just been punched so hard in the gut that he had been knocked down. What was wrong with today? Why couldn’t Neil have a normal existence? Why did he have to be Nathaniel Wesinski, the boy who was being pursued by a mob boss with only a canvas of scars across his body and a dead mother to show for it? Neil gritted his teeth.

“I’m fine,” he spat out. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me. I’m leaving.”

There was a chorus of calls from behind him as the other foxes called their dissent. Kevin’s voice was louder than the rest. Neil found it annoying. 

“Excuse me? You can’t leave,” said Kevin in an imperious tone, his mouth pressing into an almost-pout. 

Neil wanted to tell him how easily he could leave, and how he was just about to do so, when Andrew padded up to him, smile warped by mania. Neil watched him warily, crossing his arms over his chest in a loosely defensive hold. Neil was good at telling when people were a threat to him- it was one of the things that kept him alive- and, by all accounts, Andrew was definitely a threat. He was, as far as Neil could tell, unpredictable, unstable, and could fight. What did a man who had nothing to anchor himself fight for? Neil didn’t know, and that was what made Andrew such a liability. 

“Hm. Interesting. You’re a rabbit, aren’t you? Always running.” Andrew mused quietly. It seemed none of the others caught his words, but Neil went rigid. He glared at Andrew with a force that was simultaneously caused by fear and anger. It seemed Andrew was perceptive, too. This was a problem. 

Andrew just looked at Neil with a strangely dead expression. He was still smiling, but his eyes weren’t. There was nothing behind them, nothing to back up the mania. He was just… _looking._ Neil felt shivers crawl slowly up his spine, his mouth pressing into a firm line as his mind screamed, _“Danger! Danger!”_ over and over again, in his mothers’ voice.

Neil didn’t dare break eye contact. Instead, he asked Kevin steadily, “So. You’re not taking a ‘health break’ after all?” He kept his expression and tone cold.

Something about that seemed to unnerve Kevin. He bristled ever slightly, looking Neil over carefully. Andrew, however, was the one to speak.

“Oh? Have we got a fanboy here?” he deadpanned, smirking slightly. Neil frowned at him. 

“I don’t have to be a fan of Kevin Day to know simple facts, ones that are made largely available to the public. Everybody, even people who don’t give a damn about dance, are wondering what happened to him.” 

Before anything else could be said, Wymack intervened. He stepped between Neil, Andrew, and Kevin, mouth pressed into a scowl. “Okay, knock it off, Minyard,” he snapped. "Leave the kid alone. Besides, don't you have more important things to be doing? Like, make sure your cousin doesn't eat all of your ice cream?"

Andrew seemed to consider this, before finally saying, "You're right, surprisingly. I have more important things to be doing than babysitting the new kid."

There was the sound of feet scuffing the ground and then Kevin cried out, “Hey! I wasn’t done talking to him- Andrew-” 

The door slammed shut and Neil watched as Andrew herded Kevin away from the room through the window. Kevin's eye's refused to leave Neils' face, and there was a look of angry determination that promised trouble. Andrew's face was unnervingly blank. Neil watched as they disappeared from frame, before realizing he had been tensed up. He let himself relax a little now that Andrew was out of the room. Still, he kept his eyes on Wymack’s figure, distrust radiating from his body. 

“I need to go,” said Neil stubbornly, antsy to leave. Wymack surveyed him with tired eyes. 

“Look, kid,” he said finally, sighing a bit. “If you want to go, then none of us are going to stop you. But I’ve met a lot of people, people who I assume are like you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “The Foxhole Court is for broken people, Neil. Everybody is welcome here. You’re a good dancer, and I think you would be a valuable asset to this team. I can pay you if you teach the younger classes some choreography and different dance styles. I don’t charge for classes anymore, so- well, just think about it.”

Neil gave Wymack another look, before practically sprinting out of the door and through the hall. It didn’t take long to get outside, but he didn’t stop there. Neil just quickened his steps until he was running as fast as he could through the streets, barely noticing anything other than sound of his footsteps and the occasional honk of a car horn. 

He was out. He was out. And he needed to leave as soon as possible.

/~/

It seemed, however, that was going to be a problem. 

Neil paced his apartment, rubbing his skull and squinting his eyes closed. His stuff was strewn across the floor, the essentials only, and his duffle bag was empty, waiting to be re-packed. It had been hours since he had gotten home, and he had made no move to actually start leaving. 

He should already be gone. He should not be having these thoughts. He should not want this. _Wanting_ only led to trouble, and he had enough of that to last a lifetime (however short that lifetime was going to be.) Yet, when he closed his eyes, the feeling of completely letting go overtook him again, and he was forced to remember how it had felt, how free it had made him. 

Neil cursed quietly and fell onto the ground, holding his head in his hands. He didn’t know why letting go of this was so hard. It would be so, incredibly stupid to stay. Even stupider to return to that damned studio the following day. But- he wanted it. He wanted so _badly._ He wanted to feel something again. He wanted his life to have meaning. He wanted to stop running, just for a while. 

Neil pulled his legs up to his body and looped his arms around them, rocking himself softly and opening his eyes. _Would it really be so bad?_ He reasoned pitifully. _It’s not like I have anything else to do except run. Besides, I can just stick around for a little while. I’ll leave in three months like I originally planned on doing. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine._

Neil hated this. He hated himself for this. For wanting this. Needing it, even. He shuddered, and then stood, momentarily pushing everything out of his head and surveying his messy room. His eyes caught on something bright and obnoxiously orange- the flyer from before.

Without even realizing he had made a conscious decision to do so, Neil walked over and picked it up, his eyes hungrily scanning the words. Classes for 18 and younger started in a week or so. They were looking for choreographers and people college-aged and up to join the adult team. _Become a Fox!_ It loudly proclaimed. _Everyone is Welcome!_

Neil let the flyer flutter to the ground before pressing his face into his hands once again. _Only until you leave,_ the voice in his head whispered. It didn’t sound like his mother- it sounded like him. He knew that his mother would never allow him to do this- but she was dead. She was dead, and she wasn’t coming back. 

He was really doing this, wasn’t he? He was really going to do this. He felt his stomach turn and then he was racing to the bathroom. The phantom feeling of his mothers’ hands on him, hitting him, scratching him, screaming in his ear, calling him an idiot. 

Neil made it just in time to hurl into the toilet. There was no going back from this, was there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's that. I honestly just really wanted to include the word 'muscly' in relation to Andrew and that was one of the main motivators for writing this chapter. That, and Neil deciding that he's going to fuck his life over so he can dance I guess. Wow, Neil really is an idiot junkie.


	5. Can't Fix What's Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil has a bad dream and his to confront himself. He goes to the studio and gets a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! New chapter up (FINALLY) so here this is. I'm really excited about this one because it's basically the end of the 'introduction' to this fic and now we can finally start getting into the meat of this fic!!
> 
> TWs: Body Horror, Mentions of Past Trauma/Abuse, Mentions of Suicidal idealism
> 
> For the start of this fic, it's pretty bad- from where the asterisks start to where they end is where you will find the worst of the TWs (Body Horror) so be careful and take care of yourselves. If you can't handle it, just message me and I'll tell you what happens during this part. it's really not that important, so don't worry too much about it. 
> 
> I beta'd it myself so all mistakes are my own. if you want me to add any TWs, please just tell me! The chapter name is from the song, "Pick Your Poison" by Black Pistol Fire.

_"We all pick our poison,_

_It's best left unspoken,_

_Not the only one,_

_We can't fix what's broken,_

_When all is chosen,_

_Now I know I'm not the only one,"_

_-Pick Your Poison_ by Black Pistol Fire

*********

It was dusk and Neil was sitting in a car on a beach, once again. He felt nothing, the sensations of the wind from his open window refusing to touch his skin. He closed his eyes, just looking at the sand, before turning to look in the drivers’ side seat. It was his mother, as usual, staring at him with wide brown eyes- her true eye color. 

_“Abram,”_ she said. _“Nathaniel.”_

Neil just looked at her. She scowled at him and then said it again. _“Nathaniel.”_

She knew he didn’t like that name. She would only ever use it when they were alone when she was angry with him. Angry and disappointed. Those two emotions always accompanied each other when it came to Mary Hatford. Neil closed his eyes for a moment and still refused to speak. 

_“What have you done, Nathaniel?”_ she asked, and there was anger in her tone. _“Why have you done this? You have to leave. He will find you if you don’t.”_

Nathaniel still just looked at her. He noticed that the temperature was starting to rise, ever so slowly. His mouth felt dry. He found that he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. What was there to say, really? He had disobeyed her. 

_“Do you think that this is wise, Nathaniel?”_ she suddenly hissed, leaning forward. _“Is my sacrifice in vain? You should have never stayed, Nathaniel. You should have listened to me. You stupid brat. You are going to die. You’re going to die and you will be forgotten, just like me.”_

Nathaniel finally had something to stay. _“At least my life will have meaning in it,_ ” he snapped. It was the first time he could think of that he had ever dared snap at his mother. _“Before, we were just running. I was never happy. I was never alive. Dancing makes me happy! Don’t you want me to be happy?”_

_“I want you to survive!”_ snarled Mary, her eyes flashing dangerously. _“Everything I did, I did it for you, you ungrateful brat! You promised you would never stop running! You are breaking your promise!”_

The car was quickly rising in temperature, but Nathaniel found that he didn’t care. He was suddenly so very _angry_ at her. 

_“How can you just sit there and pretend that this is okay?”_ snapped Nathaniel. _“How can you just look me in the eye and scream at me about my broken promises when you are the one at fault! You are the one who married my father! You let him beat me for ten years and did nothing! And then, when you finally got the courage to leave, you wouldn’t even let me breathe! Not all the scars are from him, you know. A lot of them are from you, too.”_

_“I was trying to protect you!”_ Mary snarled. _“You would never understand why I did what I did. I did not know of your fathers’ cruelty when my parents first made the deal. Besides, I suffered as well. Your father did horrible, unspeakable things to me. You were never even supposed to have been born. It is your fault for what he did to me as well!”_

_“So, what?”_ snapped Nathaniel, hands shaking from anger. _“It was okay to hit me because he did worse things to you? Because it was_ my fault _for being born that he hurt you more?_ _Because you were trying to protect me?”_ Neil gritted his teeth. _“How can you justify beating a_ child? _Regardless of your reasons, you never should have laid a finger on me. You are no better than he was!”_

Mary let out a long, horrible laugh, her body shaking from the force of it. The heat in the air was unbearable. Mary looked Nathaniel right in the eyes and whispered, in Lola’s voice, _“It was for your own good, Junior.”_

Neil reared backward, his eyes widening in horror as Mary began to cackle. Her body shuddered from the sound of it, the hysteria ripping out of her lungs. All at once, the heat became too much and suddenly, the car was surrounded in fire. Neil’s back cracked against the door and he turned, desperately trying to unbuckle his seatbelt and open the door, but the handle wouldn’t budge, and neither would the seatbelt. Neil let out a cry of terror and looked back at his mother. She had stopped laughing but was still grinning maniacally. The fire reached out for her, caressing her face, but she didn’t move. Her skin blistered and then popped as it began to melt off of her face like hot wax. 

Nathaniel opened his mouth to let out a scream, but instead of noise, sand came pouring out of it. His hands came up to cup the sand back into his mouth but then he was choking on it, choking on the dryness of it, and the smoke. The fire had surrounded him, too. He looked at his hands and saw that the flesh had been stripped away, and now there were only bones. The shuddered and shook for a moment, before turning to ash and sand as well, pooling on the ground of the burning car. 

Nathaniel’s eyes teared up and he found himself looking forward, into the mirror which had been lowered sometime between when he first realized he was in the car and now. A pair of cruel, frost-blue eyes looked back at him, taunting him. Nathaniel could only stare at his reflection- his mouth whispering, in his mothers’ voice once more, _“Abram, what have you done?”_ before the rest of his being disintegrated into ash and sand and hot wax, and there was nothing but that horrible numbness, his consciousness stripped bare of all that he had ever been and turned into something that wasn’t even him anymore. 

********

Neil woke up screaming for the first time in three days, his body drenched in sweat and his sides heaving. The room was dark and for a split second, he thought he was back there, in his room with the light-blocking curtains, back in Baltimore. 

Then, the rest of him fit back into place and he collapsed back onto his sweaty sheets, throwing a hand over his eyes as he tried to control his breathing. The nightmare had been worse than usual- he couldn’t remember any other that he had experienced like it. 

But- maybe that was because-

_My mother,_ he thought tiredly. _And Nathaniel._

They had fought over issues that Neil had been pushing to the back of his mind for years now, always quick to excuse his mothers’ abuse with a, “She was only trying to keep me alive.” Trying, yes, but she hadn’t really succeded in keeping Nathaniel safe. 

His mother was abusive. He finally let himself think it, and it settled onto him in a strangely comfortable way, making him feel lighter. She had always preached the importance of good health, how they should never be caught in a situation where they were less than healthy. And yet, she had beat her lessons into him, sometimes until it hurt to walk, and expected him to be okay. He wasn’t okay. He wasn’t. 

Neil sat up, still feeling empty, but just a little bit more settled. Without really thinking about it, he reached down and hucked his shirt off. He didn’t want to face his scars right now, but he felt that he needed to.

Neil sat there, cataloging the scars until the sun began to rise on the horizon. There was a lot from his father, and some from on the run, but there were quite a few notable ones from his mother, too. A few, long scrapes on his ribcage from where she had gone after him with a fork when he had become too friendly with their neighbor. A slice in his side, over an already existing scar, when she had caught him without his contacts on and was holding a pair of scissors. She didn’t even hesitate, not after he cried out that he had only forgotten them. An ache, not visual, that had never left him from where she had broken one of his ribs when he couldn’t stop coughing. 

There were countless others, most of which he had forgotten the stories that they belonged to. Usually, he went to bed with a sea of bruises decorating his scant frame. He wondered how many lessons she had forced into his brain that he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried. Would he always subconsciously check the building he was in for all possible escape routes? Would he never be able to trust anybody? Would he always run, until one day he ran himself right off of a cliff- whether it be by his choice or on accident?

Neil shuddered at the sudden turn his mind had taken. He wondered, if he kept running, how long could he really keep it up? It seemed so pointless when he looked at it from this perspective. He had felt numb for so long, and he was already so broken, that he wondered, if he kept going, would he just end up at the bottom of a river somewhere? Or with his wrists cut, in some random alleyway? Would that be better than endlessly running? He hated feeling trapped, and running had always been his escape, but now he was feeling like running was just another trap. 

Neil sighed softly and glanced up at the alarm clock on his bedside table. The numbers flashed red, proclaiming it to be just past six in the morning. Neil sighed and closed his eyes, weary. 

Maybe that was why he was going to do this. To go against everything he had been taught, everything he had ever known, and to take this leap. He remembered his rationalizations from the day before. In three months, he would end up moving on. As always. And he would feel empty again. He probably wouldn’t last long after that, falling prey to his own mind as he tried to escape the bleakness of his life. 

But for now, he didn’t want to think about that. Even though joining the Foxhole Court should’ve felt like he was putting on a ball and chain and signing off on his own death certificate, it didn’t. He just felt- free. Wonderfully, amazingly free. His mind was quite, the constant heaviness of his mothers' voice strangely and somehow, wonderfully, absent. 

Neil checked the flyer again, looking for a time, and when he found now, he went and showered instead, washing the rest of his nightmare- and his regrets- down the drain. There was no time or reason for mourning over his mother’s death right now. If anything, he just wanted to forget about her for as long as he could. So, he toweled off and got ready for the day. 

He didn’t go on a run. Usually, running was an escape, but right now, all it reminded him of was his years on the run, the whispers of his mothers’ voice echoing in his ears, _“Run, Abram, run…”_

Neil sat in one of the few chairs in his apartment and studied his Italian, which he had been putting off in the past few days. His feet tapped the ground in a repetitive pattern, and he found himself lacking the usual clearheadedness and focus that studying new languages would bring to him. 

Silently cursing himself, Neil felt himself checking the clock. He had decided to wait until noon to visit the Foxhole again, but it was only seven in the morning and he was already feeling antsy. The decision he had made yesterday night had set off a reaction in him that he didn’t even pretend to understand- this excited, nervous feeling wouldn’t leave him alone. It left him feeling jittery and restless, filling him up with fuzzy static. 

Neil sat and stared blankly at his Guide to Italian Language (Volume One) until he got tired of forcing himself to reread the same page over and over again, without really processing anything that it was telling him. He stood up, frustrated, and let the book fall to the ground in front of him with a soft thump. Neil didn’t bother picking it up as he started to pace back and forth, snapping his fingers as he went. Eventually, he couldn’t take it any longer and gave up on this ‘waiting’ endeavor. Neil had always been a patient person- he had to be, or else he would have been killed many times over during his youth. But Neil was tired of waiting, tired of running. He wanted to live. 

So, that was why Neil found himself sitting at the front steps of the Foxholehours before it was supposed to open. If he remembered correctly, the last time he had been here, the others had just gotten to the studio. Neil guessed that it had been at about ten, but it had been a Friday yesterday and now it was a Saturday. He wished he had checked the flyer again, because he couldn’t quite remember if it had different hours on weekends then days of the week or if it was the same. 

Yet, Neil couldn’t find that he was annoyed by the situation. For the first time in a long time Neil found that he didn’t mind sitting around. There was no longer the bleakness and sense of worthlessness that sometimes accompanied his bouts of dry numbness. In fact, he didn’t feel numb at all. He just felt. And that was good enough for him. 

Neil didn’t know how long he sat there before the same red van from the day before drove up, this time followed by an orange sports car that Neil didn’t know the name of, yet looked quite expensive. Neil straightened, his fingers snapping up a rhythm before he could stop them. 

Matt and Dan climbed from the clunky-looking red van, followed by Allison and Seth, who pulled themselves out of the bright orange sports car that was the same color as the flyers had been. Neil shifted his weight from his left side to his right a couple of times in nervous excitement. They were here. He could dance. 

Only a few moments later, another large white truck pulled its way into the parking lot and Wymack climbed out of it, swinging his key ring around on his fingers. Neil stood up, still unable to trust the man, even though so far he had done nothing to threaten or intimidate Neil. He was nothing like Neil’s father, yet the memories still stuck to him, assigned by Neils’ crumbling psyche. 

The small group made its way towards where Neil was standing, laughing and joking as Wymack trailed behind them, a fierce expression on his face. It took a moment for them to notice his presence, at which point Matt looked up and gasped out loud. “Neil?” he called, eyes the size of dinner plates. he looked as if he had just bee presented with an early birthday gift, much like he had when Neil had beat him at the dance fight. “Guys, it’s Neil!” He turned, gesturing to the others in the group.

Allison rolled her eyes from where she was walking next to Seth, their hands clasped tightly together. “We can see that, dumbass,” she told him, her eyes focusing on Neil. “So. You came around, huh?” 

Neil eyed her carefully, before responding, “Yes. I’ll join your team.”

Wymack sidestepped the rest of the group so he could face Neil, looking him up and down. “All right, kid,” he said under his breath and then began to speak louder. “You’re welcome here, at least until the kids get here for lessons in a few weeks. I don’t know you well enough to trust you around them, so if you want to start getting paid for teaching a few classes, I’ll need to do a background check.”

Neil shrugged. He had guessed as much, and his own backstory had been carefully fabricated, once again, for this new character, so he didn’t worry too much. If there were any kinks, he still had a few weeks before classes actually started, so he had plenty of time to work them out. 

There was a snort from behind Wymack, and Dan sidestepped Wymack, frowning. “If you let the monsters by the kids every year, then I don’t think you have to worry about Neil.” She gave Neil a once-over, before continuing. “Besides, Neil gives out good vibes. Matt agrees with me.” 

Neil frowned, puzzled. “Vibes?” he asked, prompting a loud laugh from Allison. She was walking up to him, her mouth twisted into a smile. 

“What, do you live under a rock?” asked Seth from close behind her, eyes digging into Neil’s lanky form. 

“No?” said Neil and Dan and Matt exchanged a look, before chortling with laughter. Wymack waved his hand in a dismissing gesture and said, “Go open up the goddamn studio before you scare him off.”

“Will do, Coach,” said Dan happily, and she pulled Matt after her as she practically skipped to the front doors, pulling out a set of keys to open the doors with. Neil followed them with his eyes, watching as they disappeared inside and the lights turned on moments later, before snapping his gaze back to where the other three were standing in front of him. 

“Allison,” said Wymack, “take Neil on a tour of the studio, would you? Afterward, bring him to my office so we can talk.” 

Allison’s smile faded from her face, and Neil felt himself tense up. Even though it was probably for the better, he didn’t really want to talk one-on-one with Wymack, alone, in his office. Neil didn’t have time to protest however, because Allison let out a long-suffering sigh and said, “Come on, I guess.” and Neil was whisked away. Seth followed determinedly behind them, mouth pressed into a scowl, and eyes flashing coldly. 

They padded through the front doors and Allison pulled a piece of gum from her pocket and slipped it into her mouth. She noticed Neil’s curious stare and offered him a stick. Neil shook his head and the ‘tour’ began. 

“So, first,” she said boredly, “here’s the lobby, I guess. You already saw this yesterday, I think. Basically, Besty or Abby will wait behind the desk to welcome new members or whatever before classes start, but they aren’t here yet.” She eyed Neil and then elaborated, “They’re the teams’ personal physical therapists- and Betsy is also just a regular therapist, but she doesn’t really do that much anymore. Honestly, they just make sure we don’t kill each other.” 

Before Neil could comment, she continued past the desk, towards the right hallway, the one they hadn’t taken yesterday. Neil followed after her, catching Seth’s threatening gaze and giving him a dead-eyed stare in return. He wanted to ask Seth what his problem was, but he decided to not bother. 

In the right hallway, there were four classes, 1-A through 1-D. He remembered that, on the left, the classes had been numbered 2-A through 2-D. At the end of the hallway, there was another door which Allison toed open with her foot. 

“This door had been broken for about forever, but we don’t have enough money to fix it. It’s also why 1-C’s middle mirror still has a big old crack in it from where Andrew shoved Seth into the wall during a fight.” 

Neil startled at that and looked up at Seth, who currently had a murderous expression on his face. “What? What happened?”  
  


“Kevin was being a bitch so Seth got up in his face and then Andrew threw him into the mirror,” Allison explained in that same bored tone of voice as she walked into the open door. “Ah! Here’s the physical therapy-gym room.”

Neil followed Allison and Seth into a room that was about as big as the lobby, with a side door that proclaimed, “EXIT” and a few chairs, along with mismatched gym equipment. There were weights on the side of the room, a few exercise bikes and a treadmill, and stacks of other equipment thrown messily on a pile on the wall next to the door. There were a few tiny rooms separated from each other by walls and a curtain in front of them. Neil padded open and whisked open one of the curtains, revealing a bed of sorts and a few complicated machines leaning up against one wall. 

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” called Allison. Neil shucked the curtain closed and turned. 

They toured the left side of the building, where Allison showed off the bathrooms and the water fountain, which was warm and tasted kind of disgusting, before heading upstairs. 

Dan and Matt were already there, relaxing on the couch next to each other, and Allison pointed to one of the doors- “Bathroom for staff only but it’s used by kids all the time-” and then the other one. “Wymack’s office. Knock yourself out.” She crossed over to the couches to sit on Seths’ lap, who had crossed over a moment before. 

Neil looked them all over, before turning and opening the door to Wymacks’ office. It was a small, clean-smelling room with white walls and a few chairs on the sides of the room. A large desk sat in the middle of it, covered in papers and files. Compared to the rest of the relatively clean room, it looked out of place.

Wymack was sitting in the comfy-looking office chair behind it, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose and files open in his hands.He was sipping a breakfast drink from a large water bottle that looked like it was made of mangoes or oranges. Was everything around here orange? He wore a simple cap with the caption, “Foxhole Court Dancers” and a dirty-looking wife-beater. He didn’t look up when Neil walked in, so Neil sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs on the right wall, alternating from staring at his hands and staring at Wymack. 

After a couple of minutes, Wymack glanced up, presumably to look at the clock, and nearly spat out his drink when he noticed Neil there, sitting and waiting patiently. He dropped the file he was reading and choked out, “Neil! What- the fuck-” 

Neil couldn’t help but lean back into himself as he watched Wymack try and pull himself together. His father would never be as clumsy as Wymack was being right now, he reasoned. He wouldn’t choke on his drink. Wymack and his father were nothing alike, so there was no reason to panic. The only thing they had in common was that they were around the same age. That was all. That was-

“Je-sus, Neil,” Wymack gasped out, staring at him with wide eyes. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. How long have you been sitting there?”

Neil shrugged. “Um, a couple of minutes?”

Wymack’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. “You. What? Why didn’t you just get my attention? Clear your throat or something.”

Neil shrugged again. “You looked busy,” he said, trying to hide his discomfort. Wymack looked at him for a moment longer with disbelieving eyes, before shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath that Neil couldn’t catch. Then he straightened. 

“So, moving on,” he said, pushing the reading glasses up on his nose. “You want to join the team?”

Neil nodded mutely. It felt like admitting that he wanted to do anything- especially dance- would be too traitorous towards his mother, despite the fact that he never had owed her anything. Still, her voice lived in his mind, always haunting him, a ghost that would never leave. 

“All right, well, I’ve seen you dance, so I don’t think you’ll need to audition or anything,” he said, shuffling through some of the papers on his desk, intent on finding something. “Are you willing to help choreograph and teach a few dances to the others? Or would you like to just do some solo dances?” 

“Um,” Neil said, thinking. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he would probably have to choreograph and perform in front of others at recitals. He despised the idea of standing up on a stage, letting others watch him dance. It wasn’t safe. What if somebody took photos? What if he was recognized? Neil knew there was a minimal chance of that happening, but he was still hesitant. 

“I’m willing to help choreograph,” he said finally, “but… I’m not sure if I’m ready to perform. In front of an audience, I mean.”

Wymack looked him over with a curious look in his eyes. Neil couldn’t help but cower a little bit. Wymack noticed, and his gaze took on something almost sad. 

“Okay,” Wymack said. “I understand. Is it stage fright, or-?”

“No,” Neil said, “I just- I can’t perform for that many people. The risks- I mean-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Wymack responded, cutting him off. “I don’t really care. Just let me know if you change your mind, or something, all right?”

Neil nodded. Wymack frowned at him again, pulling up the file he must have been looking for. “Now, onto the other business- in a few weeks, I’ll start holding weekly sessions for a whole bunch of age groups of kids. If you don’t want to dance in the recital, but are down to choreograph, I think that helping with classes or even taking on your own could be good.” He paused, considering something. “I think that you could be a real asset to the b-boy classes. Kevin and Seth have decided to take turns teaching them since last year was a disaster, but they aren’t exactly…” he flinched as he thought of something. “...very good teachers.”

Neil frowned. “But, isn’t Kevin Day supposed to be one of the best dancers alive?” It wasn’t really a question since they both knew the answer. 

Wymack laughed, a tired sound, and said, “Kid, Kevin’s a great dancer, sure, but his teaching skills are… negligible.” He cringed a little again. “And, Seth’s too aggressive. The kids we teach usually need a gentler push then the two can give.” 

Neil digested this knowledge. “So- you think that I can help give them that ‘gentle push?’” he asked, frowning. “I thought you said you didn’t trust me.”

“I never said that,” Wymack responded.

“You inferred it,” Neil argued, pursing his lips into an almost pout. Wymack sighed.

“Fine, whatever you want to think,” he allowed. “But nothing can be worse than the horrible mess that was Seth and Kevin trying to get along as well as teach a room full of preteens the difference between top rock and down rock.” He visibly shuddered from the memories, his face morphing into an expression that conveyed, _“Never again.”_

Neil was surprised to find that he almost wanted to laugh. Thinking back, Neil couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely wanted to laugh because of something funny. He laughed, sometimes, when he was remembering, and it would sound broken and cold. Like his fathers’ sadistic laugh that he had used sometimes to put Neils’ mother down. The one he had used on Nathaniel sometimes.

Now it was Neils’ turn to suppress a shudder. 

Wymack seemed to notice and his face got that look again- the sad, tired one, weary from having experienced too much. He looked like he wanted to say something but then changed his mind, shuffling the papers on his desk and looking away. His body radiated discomfort. 

There was silence for a moment longer, before Wymack finally decided to speak again. He cleared his throat and said, “You know, kid, I started the Foxhole Court with an old friend of mine a long time ago. Eventually, it began kind of a… haven… for kids. Kids like you, I think.”

Neil recoiled a little. What did he mean? 

Carefully, Neil asked, “Kids like me?”

Wymack hesitated again, before sighing. “Look, I don’t pretend to know anything about your family situation, but I know the signs of abuse when I see them.” Neil scowled. “I might be wrong, but I really don’t think I am. There’s a reason I stopped making kids pay for lessons. For some of them, this is the only place they’ve got that’s safe.”

“So, you take on the charity cases?” asked Neil, raising an eyebrow. “How incredibly idealistic of you.”

Wymack frowned. “People like us have to stay together,” he said, and Neil couldn’t quite hold back a snort, which Wymack dutifully ignored as he pioneered on. “I’ll have to do a background check, as I already mentioned, but I have a good feeling about you, kid.” He offered Neil a small smile, which Neil did not return. Still, Wymack was undeterred. “The kids need someone who understands what they’re going from. Some of them come from straight off the streets and stay at the studio and my house at night. That’s primarily why I send recruiters out onto the streets to dance and pass out flyers. It’s not much, but for kids like that, even just a quarter can be life-changing. You understand, don’t you?”

Neil frowned at him. “What do the kids do when you’re not holding sessions?”

“Actually, this is the first year that I had to stop sessions. I’ll hold them year-round, with one concert each summer and winter, and I adjust the sessions accordingly. But recently- well, Kevin’s here. Permanently.”

Neil didn’t follow. “What do you mean, permanently?”

Wymack grimaced a little, and then said, “If you’re going to be working here, you’ll probably hear the whole story now but… it’s not my story to tell.

“Kevin has been volunteering here for the past few years, for whatever reason. I think he saw it as a reprieve from working with Riko and the rest of those sadistic assholes. But something happened, as you can guess. He got injured. His left hand- it was broken.”

Neil’s mind went blank at this knowledge. Kevin Day?? _Injured??_ Neil shuddered at the thought of it. Kevin was mainly a b-boy and his left hand was his dominant one. If he couldn’t use it, then his dancing skills would have been dramatically affected. He could only imagine how difficult it would be for Kevin to continue dancing with his left hand left inoperative. 

Wymack nodded at the horrified expression on his face. “He took it really hard. He couldn’t even dance for a while, and now he’s been having to simply teach dance instead of actually participate. It’s made him even more bitter than usual.”

Neil finally recovered. “What happened to him?” he couldn’t help but ask. Wymack’s face took on an unreadable look. 

“Nothing important,” he said eventually, his eyes still unreadable. Neil shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Wymack’s eyes unfocused for a moment, before he shook his head and blinked hard, pulling himself back together. 

“All right. Well, let me find the rest of the papers I want you to look at and sign- just to check your history with drugs and that sort of thing.”

Neil nodded his understanding, still wishing they could hurry up. He disliked being stuck in this small office with a man who he could not trust, every nerve ending on edge. Neil had always hated feeling trapped. 

Wymack shuffled through a few more folders, before pulling out several forms. “Just read through these- you only have to sign where I’ve highlighted-” He proceeded to take out a bright orange highlighter and begin to mark the papers. “These ones, the orange ones, are about teaching, and I don’t need those at the moment.” 

Neil nodded and took the piles of papers Wymack messily shoved at him. He began to read through the first one as Wymack watched him expectantly, and when he got to the bottom, he looked up to see Wymack holding a pen out to him. He took it carefully, and clicked it open, just staring at the form for a minute. 

Signing this meant a lot of things. It may have seemed like a small thing to any normal person, but Neil was about as far from normal as you could be. Signing this was another promise to uphold, a shackle around his foot that would weigh him down maybe forever. It would make it so much harder to run then it already was. 

But, somehow, Neil ached for the heavy, reassuring feel of the weight on his foot. He hated being trapped, but this was a trap he would happily walk into. Neil screwed his eyes shut, opened them, and then dropped the pen to the paper, before scrawling out his messy signature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok well, there that was. I'm pretty proud of this chapter, even though I feel like my style varies and it annoys me. Regardless, I hope I didn't scare you off with the dream at the beginning, I was kind of unsure about how gory I should make it. Welp. 
> 
> Anyways, I really like this chapter besides that. I wasn't sure if I was going to make Neil confront his mother's abuse this early on, but seeing as Neil is older and more mature in this fic, I think that he would've recognized it earlier but just wouldn't have wanted to confront to, and him doing something his mother explicitly told him not to do might trigger a dream like that. 
> 
> Also, my absolute favorite part of this chapter was where Neil went and waited in Wymack's office and didn't like, try to get his attention. I always worry about being OOC but out of everything I've written so far, that is definitely the MOST in character I have written him. Tell me I'm wrong, I dare you. That's what I thought. You can't.
> 
> Finally, I'll be doing alternating POVs every other chapter between Neil and Andrew in the future (loosely. Don't hate me if I take a few liberties now and then.) I'm kind of following the events of the book, but it's definitely out of the original timeline (Andrew is on his meds now instead of getting on them in college for example.) I also haven't reread the books for a little bit, so I might forget something. I skimmed over Nora's extra content, but I disliked a lot of it (sorry, Nora) so unless I totally messed something up horribly, just like, go with it. 
> 
> Andrew's POV is coming up next! I don't know when I'll next be updating, but I'll try to keep it pretty consistent. Love y'all!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! if there are any grammatical errors/TWs you want me to add, feel free to tell me. Here's my tumblr if you care about that stuff: https://dangerous-advantage.tumblr.com/


End file.
